Crush
by DimeStreet
Summary: Tony doesn't really notice how Loki keeps unintentionally saving his life, or think that it's odd how often he manages to survive an encounter with the god. The guy is just having a hard time killing him. Frostiron
1. Chapter 1

I've already written a few chapters of this, and will most likely upload another one tomorrow. Loki does show up more prominently in later chapters, but, since it's from Tony's POV, the majority of it at first is mostly just him. With some, obviously, meaningful cameos from the God of Mischief.

If a disclaimer is really necessary, here it is: I don't own much of anything, and I especially don't own any of the copyrighted characters in this story.

* * *

-Chapter 1-

Tony should have begun noticing months before it was shoved in front of his face. The first time there was a clue- one that, looking back, was a pretty damn big clue- was when the Avengers were fighting some guy that wanted to destroy all civilization. He was going on and on about how there were too many humans, and that their machines were going to destroy Mother Nature. Tony figured he was probably right, but he also made machines for a living, so fuck him. Besides, see that big tower in the center of New York? Clean energy, baby. He was reducing his carbon footprint through a technological marvel, and this guy still had the gall to bring up old nicknames and claim he was the reincarnation of Satan. And, yes, he was zeroing in on Tony, because he had a tendency to blow things up.

And, well, he may have had a point there.

Anyway, halfway through the fight (after he'd tried to 'reason' with the Avengers and get them on his side), the guy reveals he isn't so much of an anti-tech guy after all. At first, Tony figured it was a detonator. Which would have been bad, obviously, but the Avengers dealt with bomb-toting nut cases every other week. He didn't realize it was a NNEMP until he was heading straight down, limbs unable to even flail within the metal.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." He decided he was allowed a mini-panic attack, especially as the others wouldn't be able to hear him and mock him about it later. If there were a later. He wondered whether they even noticed his descent, as the guy had some weird plant-creatures keeping them busy. He certainly couldn't warn them through the downed Com. Link in his suit.

He calculated that he probably had about ten seconds to reach the ground. He also calculated- although calculations weren't really necessary- that a fall from his height wouldn't just sprain an ankle.

He heard harsh laughter somewhere to the left, and then a familiar voice:

"Why, Thor, you can't even protect your playthings." He thought he might have heard Thor call his name before he felt- five seconds now- the body crash into his side.

"Man of Iron, are you harmed?" The booming voice demanded as he felt concrete- beautiful, beautiful non-splattering concrete- beneath him.

"Nah," he assured him. "-Just a NNEMP." As he remembered who he was talking to, he added, "A thing that cut off the power to my suit. I'm fine. Go get 'em, buddy." He felt Thor's departure more than he saw it (he wasn't really able to turn his head), and was benched for the rest of the battle. He was a bit miffed that he couldn't beat the hippie up, but decided that, all things considered, the day could have ended worse.

"Glad to see you didn't wander off." Barton, of course.

"Fuck you." He'd been sitting, motionless, for three hours. His sense of humor wasn't as in tact as the archer's. "Get me up."

"If you're upset, I can give you some alone time," Clint continued, and even if Tony couldn't look up to see his face, he could picture the grin. How he wanted to punch it.

"Oh, you know me better than that," Tony ground out. "I'm a social butterfly."

"You look like you're still in your cocoon there, Mr. Monarch." Clint told him, though he attempted to jerk Tony to his feet. "How long is this gonna last? For a cute little bug, you're pretty damn heavy."

"Then how about someone with muscles gets me home?" Tony retorted, trying to help but failing miserably. Clint was right: it wasn't light, and it _was_ a pain.

"Thor has already had his fill of dragging you around." Clint informed him, still perky despite the challenge. "Cap got a nasty cut from one of those thorns, and Bruce isn't so angry anymore."

"And Natasha?" Tony questioned, finally pulled to his feet.

"She wasn't interested." Tony rolled his eyes, though he knew very well Clint couldn't see his face.

"Perfect. Okay, see on my back? Between the two shoulder blades?" He felt Clint move around back.

"I can't even figure out where your shoulder-blades are. You're, like, five inches taller than normal."

"Guess," Tony snapped, wishing he could cross his arms. "There should be two little slits."

"Got 'em." After about ten minutes of work, they'd managed to remove the more difficult pieces. Tony took the rest of the suit off himself, trying to ignore the grin he could now easily see.

"Jesus, is this like Christmas for you? Is this all you have to look forward to in your miserable life?" The grin, predictably, didn't waver.

"Guess why you're alive."

"Because my Mommy and Daddy got really drunk one night."

"Loki showed up and made fun of you. Thor noticed you falling because Loki was _literally just laughing at you_." Tony tried not to let the frustration show, but the glint in his friend's eyes made it clear just how badly he'd failed.

"Well, jokes on him because I didn't become a pancake. Maybe he'll learn to be less eager with the comedian routine." He ripped off the final piece, cringing as it tore a little bit of skin. Manually removing the suit always sucked, but at least he could hit Clint when he made another crack about his 'savior'. It didn't stop the assassin from laughing, and, after about an hour, it was difficult for Tony not to laugh along.

It was, after all, just a tiny bit funny.

He bet Loki was fuming.


	2. Chapter 2

Alrighty, a little more Loki in this chapter.

* * *

-Chapter 2-

The second instance was during a battle with the demi-god himself. It was a few months after the first incident, and Tony had, more or less, forgotten about Loki accidentally saving his life. He had near-death experiences a lot, after all, and couldn't exactly keep track of them all.

This particular fight was raging on a Thursday, and unlike most Thursdays, Tony was actually doing work. As in, he was literally at a board meeting. Doing what he was supposed to do. See? This is what being responsible gets you. Severe second-degree burns and a broken arm.

_I'm here, I'm on time. You owe me. Big. _

_For doing what you're supposed to for once? _He could practically see Pepper's arched brow, and he tried to hide his smile behind a cough.

_Aren't you at least gonna try the Pavlovian response dealio? Make me wanna do this shit by giving me what I want?_

_When do I not give you exactly what you want? _And he was hard-pressed to find a reply to that.

_Okay, I give. I'll be a responsible CEO for no reward this time. _

_It's good to try new things. Now pay attention. _

_Or else...? _She didn't reply, and Tony decided that she had probably gone into her own business meeting. She had left for Japan earlier that week for a merger that she'd been fighting for for months. She seemed pleased, and that meant the deal was probably going well. Good. Now if only he could scrape up the barest attention and focus on the men in front of him.

They all appeared to be fifty-going-on-a-hundred-and-twelve, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so bored. Well, actually, he could. The last Avengers meeting. But at least those usually preceded explosions.

"-budget by fifteen percent by next November by lowering our work-force by fifteen thousand in the standard research department, but will encourage economic growth in that sector by-" Tony repressed a groan. Jesus. He didn't understand how Howard had managed to sit through these. He supposed the man didn't so much mind mindless bullshit, being a purveyor of it himself. "-synergize-" People actually said synergize? The man speaking glanced at him nervously, as if feeling the boredom rolling off of him in waves. Tony sent him a charming grin, hoping that it worked as well on board-members as it did on the paparazzi. The guy did seem to relax a little, and started to talk about his chart with a little more energy.

He'd been in the meeting a total of thirty-eight minutes (though it felt like he'd been squirming in his chair for at least an hour) when it happened.

The windows shattered with the force of some great unidentified-as-of-yet power, and Tony did what he always did. Something stupid. He leapt forward, knocking down the speaker as the fire swelled into the room. The speaker- Al something, definitely- stared up at him with both awe and confusion. Definitely in shock. And, probably, confused.

Tony rolled off of him, repressing a grimace as his burned flesh pressed against the glittering glass that now decorated the rug.

"Everyone alive?" Everyone else had been seated, and the damage was minimal. The only one that had been in any danger was Al, and Al was now flat on his back, still blinking up at the ceiling. "Cool. Cool cool cool." He slid his hand into his pocket, found his cell phone, and groaned as he saw the cracked screen. "This isn't my day."

"I've got a phone?" Al said (asked?), handing over a slim thing that hadn't sustained even a bit of damage.

"Excellent. Very excellent, Al." He turned it on, expecting to call someone and demand immediate assistance (maybe with a few 'This is Tony Stark's thrown in to speed up the arrival). No signal. Which was impossible, technically, because his whole damn building had perfect signal. "Less excellent."

There was another burst of flame outside, and a few board-members lowered their heads, expecting something bad to happen. Which was, y'know, a reasonable expectation.

"Here." He tossed the phone onto Al's chest, and wandered toward the window. He later blamed the action on shock. Really, though? He was just _really_ fucking curious as to what was going on. "You guys should probably get some band-aids, or something." He heard scurrying behind him, but didn't bother looking. He peered out of the broken window, and his eyes widened as he spotted Loki going toe-to-toe with his brother. Every once in a while, he'd pivot, do something crazy that resulted in a blast, and catch Thor off-guard. He thought he saw a speck off on the distant rooftop, and his eyes widened as a little dot moved from that speck toward the battling brothers. Loki derisively waved a hand, and the arrow curved reluctantly to the left.

Right, of course, at Tony.

"Fucking _Clint_-" he ground out, dodging to the side as the arrow exploded against the skyscraper. He let out a choked sort of grunt as a piece of building (a piece of _his_ building) decided to land on his arm. He managed to wrench the limb loose, and glared as it sagged painfully.

Because he was, in fact, a genius, Tony decided that having his arm broken was his cue to exit the fucking stage. When he made this brilliant decision, however, he had not taken into account the fact that the universe hated him. Another explosion racked the room, and he felt his footing fail him. He stumbled involuntarily toward the gaping hole in his boardroom. He'd almost fallen when he grasped at a make-shift foothold with his right hand, forcing his left arm up as his other grip began to slip.

"Why do you fight for these pitiful creatures?" He could picture the sneer, even though he really didn't want that to be the last thing he thought of. Pepper. Beautiful Pepper. She didn't even have to be naked- just picture her face. "They are below you. Of course, we both are well aware of how you prefer being the best. I suppose being with these insignificant mortals feeds that ego quite thoroughly."

"Halt this madness," Thor growled. "-you are hurting those that are innocent."

"No one in this realm is innocent. See that thing attempting to crawl its way to-" There was a pause, an astounded moment of silence.

"Brother-?" A pause, and Pepper's amused face was replaced with Thor glancing in his direction. That had to be what was happening. Which meant living was a definite possibility. Probably at 67%, optimistically."Man of Iron?"

"He wears no suit now," he heard Loki hiss. "-He will die, and you will watch him do so."

"I shall _not_." He heard Thor growl, and then he felt a body grab him as it zoomed overhead, and then he was back inside. Confused, definitely, and in no small amount of pain. But alive, and he wasn't holding on for dear life with a busted arm.

"Thanks." Thor dashed to the window.

"He is gone."

"Loki?"

"Aye. He intended to battle, but I suppose his interest faded." He frowned as he turned. "I was unaware you were informed of this threat. Why are you here?" The frown deepened. "And unarmed?"

"I was at fucking _work_," Tony groaned. "Never again, man. Pepper can give me puppy-dog eyes, can threaten my life, can even threaten my _sex-life_. But no more work."

* * *

So, when I was writing, what was going to be a 'Five times Tony didn't notice Loki saving him and the one time he did' fluff kinda story turned into a linear thing that actually goes somewhere (which really wasn't what I was expecting when I started writing it). Hopefully, you guys haven't lost interest yet. The chapters also get progressively longer, in case you're wondering, as I found myself in plot-territory.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks so much for the reviews/favs/follows. I've been checking like an obsessed lunatic in my free time, as that really does encourage me to write/upload.

* * *

-Chapter 3-

The third incident occurred less than a month later. His arm was still in a cast, though the burns had had the decency to heal. He was doing nothing in particular- just sitting in his lounge. Alone.

"Because I'm a winner." He said to no one, tipping the decanter so that the amber liquid nearly reached the middle of his glass. His eyes flickered to his phone. No text, no call. Pepper was still pissed. Fuck.

"Sir, there appear to be a number of masked men in the lobby." At least Jarvis was around. He frowned as the crux of the message sunk in.

"Armed?"

"Scanning currently, sir." A small pause. "They seem to be carrying CQBRs."

"Stark Industries design?"

"It would appear so, sir."

"How many are there in total?"

"Twelve, sir." Tony hummed in response, lifting the glass to his lips. "Sir? Should I contact SHIELD?"

"SHIELD?" He repeated with a snort. "They're probably the ones behind this. And if Nick-y isn't in charge, I sure as hell don't want to owe him any favors."

"What should I do, sir?" Tony considered it for a moment, fuzzy mind not too concerned that time was of particular importance.

"Where are they?"

"They seem to be splitting into four groups, sir. Two groups are ascending through use of the elevator shaft and the stairs. One group is attempting to hack into the security system. The final faction is staying near the doors, most likely to keep watch."

"Okay."

"Sir?"

"I guess...they're in the elevator shaft, right? Can't we, I dunno, turn the elevator on?"

"While that would certainly eradicate the threat of that particular group, sir, the others would remain. I suggest that you contact SHIELD, the police, or perhaps the other Avengers. At the moment, you are not in the-"

"Mute. Cut the elevator idea. Let's just see what they want." He paused, taking another sip. "But keep them the fuck out of my system." Tony let his head loll to the side. Still no texts, no missed calls. Maybe the trespassers had taken away his signal? He awkwardly thumbed the password in, eyes unfocused. Nope. Five bars. Which meant Pepper was still mad. Still meant what she'd said.

Take a break.

What does that even _mean_?

"Mr. Stark." He turned, raising his eyebrows.

"You've gotta be the elevator people. No one can climb stairs that fast." He couldn't see the expression on the other man's face, but liked to think he was confused. Or impressed. Either, really. He couldn't really make himself care too much. It was just the wrong night for something like this to happen.

"Come with us." He shook his head.

"I can't really walk. We can talk here. Drink?" He clumsily leaned forward, grabbing his glass and nearly spilling it as he tossed the liquid back. "I'll have one, if you don't mind."

"You need to come with us." He shook his head again.

"I can't fucking walk a line. Z, Y- shit, I can't go further than that." He released a thin sigh. "Look, if this is a kidnapping, I can assure you that it would have backfired on you anyway. I have a tendency to kill people who kidnap me. It's this weird quirk of mine."

"We won't give you the chance." When he looked up again, there was a gun aimed at his head.

"Yeah, I made that." He said needlessly. It wasn't as if the bullets would recognize that they'd been shot from his stuff, so they were supposed to turn around and defend their daddy. Maybe he could make something like that, but, for now? The technology just wasn't there.

"Come with-"

"He has already made it clear that he has no intention of letting you take him." The metal bent as Tony eyed it, and he shook his head.

"Magneto?" Loki stepped into his line of vision, looking severely disgruntled.

"I suggest you leave immediately." The other group arrived, and immediately began to fire as Loki's threatening form came into view. The bullets twisted around (hey, just like Tony's idea! He'd pitch it at the next meeting. Oh, wait. He didn't go to those anymore), and the bodies collapsed heavily. "I suggest," the demi-god repeated, his voice acid. "-that you find your way out." This time, everyone knew how to take directions.

Tony turned his head, unsure whether he were actually conscious. This could be a dream. It could definitely be a dream.

His eyes flickered involuntarily down at the phone. A bad dream. So this was real. Which meant he had a murderer staring at him, most likely waiting for some intelligent conversation.

"Are you gonna-" An involuntary hiccup. "-murder me now?"

"It was my intention," Loki agreed, crossing his arms. "But you are far too intoxicated for it to be satisfying." Tony nodded sagely, hands shaking as he lifted the glass to his lips.

"Okay. Sorry." Loki's face was shadowed heavily, but his expression was clearly something more than annoyed. Angry, probably. Tony considered offering him a drink. When he'd almost managed to formulate the words, however, the demi-god was gone.

In the morning, the bodies were stinking up his lounge and Jarvis was saying 'told you so' just a bit too loudly for Tony's liking.

* * *

Tony is officially available. I wanted there to be some closure when it came to him and Pepper, and that chapter won't be the last we see of their break-up. I figure he relies on her a lot, and the ending of their relationship might negatively impact him. So there might be some angsty shenanigans coming up regarding how he deals with the 'break' being an official break-up. The next chapter (if you can really call it that) is really short, so I'm just going to upload it later tonight. And it's less touchy-feely than its follow-up, which will be the longest chapter so far (and have loads of Loki).


	4. Chapter 4

So, basically, this is pretty much just Chapter 3.2

Okay, I promised that I'd upload this one tonight. I was considering just skipping it as it is super short- less than a thousand words. But I figured, why not? Besides, tomorrow's is longer than the entirety of this story combined so far. 4,000 words. So, y'know, long chapter coming. This story was originally going to be a oneshot, so I wasn't really focusing on the lengths of the individual 'instances'. After this chapter, I realized it was going to be a multi-chapter fic, so I started to write more. So, before you complain how this is super-short, I promise tomorrow's is longer and this is just, like, a little extra for today. Thanks so much (again) for the reviews/favs/follows, and I'll try to upload tomorrow afternoon.

* * *

-Chapter 4-

The fourth incident was the one that made Tony feel like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. They were fighting- the Avengers and Loki- while a hundred little creatures ran around terrorizing innocent New Yorkers. Tony had had the pleasure of fighting with one before the team had taken the fight to Loki, and had gotten a dented arm for his trouble. He was having difficulty staying balanced as a result, and was teetering awkwardly as he sent blast after blast towards the green-clad villain. The entire team had gone after the demi-god at first, but most had inevitably been distracted by the rampant damage the creatures were inflicting. Eventually, it was just him left, somehow, and if the grin on Loki's face were anything to go by, the demi-god considered him no great challenge.

Which was a little insulting, really, because he was, technically, the guy who blew up the Chitauri spaceship. But that was a few world crises back, and people have short attention spans.

And so do, apparently, Jötunn-born Æsir gods.

"You appear damaged," Loki taunted, throwing some crazy magical orb (that exploded) toward Tony's weaker side. He barely managed to avoid the blast, then sent a small missile toward the roof of the building (evacuated, I promise) that Loki was using as a shield of sorts. The demi-god grinned viciously as the missile came closer, before teleporting. Right onto his back. Arms looped around Tony's neck, he growled, "Perhaps you should sit this one out, Man of Iron." An Earth phrase alongside that accent just sounded silly, but the threat of being decapitated kept Tony from laughing. Much.

"Come on, coach, I know I can do it!" He swung his arms around, and forcibly flipped the Asgardian, throwing him down onto the street. His arm lost power for a moment- and _he_ lost altitude. Deciding to call it 'on purpose', he lowered himself down beside the Loki-shaped ditch he'd created. "So, am I still benched?" Sometimes, Tony forgot that some people fight dirty. Which was ridiculous, really, because he fought dirty _all the time_. So, when Loki snatched his boot and squeezed, Tony was more surprised than angry. The anger came soon after, as Loki twitched his wrist and Tony slammed face-first into the asphalt.

"You speak too much in battle," Loki growled, and Tony rolled to the side, grimacing as the bent metal pressed into his shin. It was now officially a tight squeeze.

"Excuse me for thinking I could get a good conversation while we beat you. Again." He heard the growl, and called it a warning to roll again. This time, however, he was dragged back. He was pulled upwards, his faceplate a mere five inches from Loki's nose. There was something on the god's face that was seriously disconcerting, and it wasn't quite the normal rage he was accustomed to. It was different, and different is bad. Different means you can't anticipate your opponent's next move.

"Chest blast, Jarvis, _now_." A flicker of understanding on Loki's face, and when the blast was released, it merely shot through a haze of green smoke. "I call it a victory," Tony told his AI.

"Of course, sir." He sat forward jerkily, his arm and leg protesting.

"Well, I won't be flying home."

"Shall I call a taxi, sir?"

"Hilarious." He forced himself into a standing position, testing the various limbs. "Patch me through to the others."

"Done, sir."

"Cool. Hey, guys, what's the update?"

"They just disappeared a second ago." Rogers informed him, sounding confused but relieved. They'd been fighting since noon- a respite was definitely a good thing.

"Figures. Loki went MIA. We good then? Can I go home? Also, I need a ride."

* * *

Like I said, incredibly short. But it's a two-for-one special in terms of chapters, so that's good?


	5. Chapter 5

Alrighty, here's the next section. I meant to put this up earlier, but life kinda distracted me for a while. It was at this chapter that I realized the fic wasn't gonna be a oneshot. Thanks so much for making it this far, and for the favs/follows/reviews.

* * *

-Chapter 5-

The fifth incident occurred almost a week later.

"I'm sorry." Tony shook his head.

"It's fine. I figured as much. I mean, it was kinda obvious, but I've been busy lately, saving the world, being rich, handsome, smart, definitely having good genes-"

"Tony." He nodded.

"Sorry." He always rambled when he was nervous. As if talking could solve anything, as if talking just that much more might change everything. It wouldn't this time- he knew that logically. But fuck. It was _Pepper_.

"I'll still..." She paused briefly, frowning down at his fingers. "If you want, I'll still work with you. I mean, obviously, if it's what you want, I'll lea-"

"No. No way." He interrupted. "I need you." He blinked suddenly. "Not like that. I mean, I do, but I get it, I do, and I'm totally-" He shook his head, wearing a rare grin that he'd always reserved for her. Somewhere between a charming 'I'm such a shit, ain't I?' and a dismayed 'Fuck.' "I'd want you to work here, still, if you're okay with it."

"Of course I am," she answered quickly, relief flooding her eyes. Her gorgeous fucking eyes. "I don't want this to make us-"

"It won't," he assured her. "I think we've both dealt with my fallouts enough that we can handle this little hiccup, right?" It might have sounded insensitive if he weren't a second away from breaking down for the first time in twenty years. And he'd had some shit things happen in those twenty years.

"Right." She agreed, that perfect little smile fractured. A pause. Uncomfortable, but relieving because this had finally been dealt with. "Thank you, Tony." He gave her a false and charming grin that he gave papers and board members. It wasn't the rare one. It wasn't the honest one, even if the words that accompanied it were as sincere as they came.

"It's you, Pep. I wouldn't let anything get between us." And that real grin was back, a flash before he'd swallowed it away. "Even me."

She left almost twenty minutes later, the destruction calmed a little but not enough that he was willing to deal with it like a mature adult.

"Jarvis, prep the suit. I'm gonna take a spin."

"Is that wise, sir?" Tony rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, knowing the AI would register the expression.

"Consider me Solomon, buddy. I just feel like flying. So trash the maternal instincts spiel and prep the suit." Jarvis didn't reply, but the whirring of the machinery to the left acknowledged the command. Tony glanced down at the decanter by his keyboard. He'd been dying for a drink the entire time that Pepper had been speaking (softy, as if she were calling him back from a ledge). But he still had a headache from the night before (it had been a long week), and, for once, he didn't feel like the hair of the dog technique was really going to work.

"I have to clear my head, is all." He announced, turning from the bottle and stalking toward the machine. As Jarvis dutifully packaged him within the metal wrapping paper, he went over the conversation in his head. By the time he was wishing for a drink again, he was ready to fly.

"Ignore any calls." He instructed, before bringing the thrusters to life and bursting through the tunnel. He breathed out heavily as the world revealed itself. He technically couldn't smell the salty breeze, or feel the cold that had settled this high in the atmosphere. But he hadn't left the house since he'd arrived in Malibu three days before (he wasn't hiding, definitely not), and it felt nice to be out.

He flew for almost an hour, twisting around in the sky and ignoring Jarvis as he listed off numbers that were insistently phoning back at the mansion.

"Sir, it appears someone is overriding my programming. I am unable to disregard the phone call."

"What?" Tony demanded, halting in mid-air. "Stop them. Who the fuck-?"

"Mr. Stark." Of course. Because his day wasn't shit enough.

"Oh, Fury, I've missed your baritone. Mind explaining why you're bullying Jarvis?"

"You're currently in California, correct?"

"Last I checked I haven't passed any state lines. What's up?"

"Loki was spotted in that area. We need you there."

"Lucky me. Didn't I get to deal with him last week? Can't you call in Goldilocks? He's all about reunions."

"We need you there. We'll try to get Thor in as back-up, but there are no promises he'll get there in time if you engage Loki. There is no need for contact. Just watch and keep him in that area while we get the other Avengers." A few numbers appeared on the screen in front of Tony's face. Coordinates. Because he wasn't allowed to say 'no'.

"Y'know, I might have plans."

"I am well-aware that you don't. And considering this little mission is probably saving you from alcohol poisoning, I suggest you look on the bright side and call yourself lucky." Tony cringed. Of course Fury would know about the break-up. Fucking spies.

"You're a dick. On my way."

"Good. Keep busy." The line clicked off, and Tony sped towards the coordinates, ignoring that Fury was probably right. He couldn't have stayed out all night long, and he wouldn't have been able to avoid a drink when he got home. He needed something to distract himself with. And hell, wasn't a demi-god the perfect cure?

* * *

He had, abstractly, already made up his mind. By the time he reached the isolated road-side restaurant wherein Loki was supposedly spending his evening, he wasn't even considering a stake-out. He was filled with a nervous energy he usually smothered with work or alcohol, and he was looking forward to unleashing everything he had, in hopes that it might eradicate the pit in his stomach. And if he died?

It wasn't as if there'd be anyone to miss him at home.

He wasn't thinking clearly, obviously, and his logic was frayed. But when he broke open the door of the diner, smirking cavalierly even though no one could see the deceit, he didn't particularly care.

"Hey, Loki, can you come out to play?" The demi-god turned at the noise, genuine surprise playing across his features.

"Stark?"

"I'm sorry, were you expecting a different billionaire genius in a suit of armor?" Loki stood, pushing away his plate- a barely touched piece of pie- and faced him with an expression of mild wariness.

"To be perfectly honest, I did not predict your arrival."

"Well, we all have off-days. Now surrender-" And he knew that Loki would never give up if you actually used the word 'surrender', and maybe he didn't want him to give up. "-or get blown up. And I've got some new missiles, so I promise it'd be a damn big 'Boom' if you choose B." And there was a challenge. He'd always been good at provoking. And wasn't that the problem?

"I'm afraid I have no interest in 'surrendering'." He said it like a curse word, and Tony grinned.

"Then get ready to go boom." There were civilians. Well, technically only three- two cowering cooks and a worried waitress. Tony hadn't really thought about them, but it didn't seem like Loki was interested in harming them. He attacked as if he had only eyes for Tony, and Tony only gave him more of the same.

He spun the demi-god around, throwing him out of the hole he'd created with his spontaneous entrance. The diner was surrounded by nothing but desert. No more civilians, nothing to avoid hitting. He zoomed after him, crashing his boots onto the man's chest, and feeling no sense of satisfaction despite the snarl he was given. There was just a cold despondency tugging at his every limb, aching to make a mistake.

And fuck, he knew he'd miss Pepper if she ever left, but he never thought it would hurt this much. Loki was suddenly not beneath his heels, and there were explosions of green magic. It was one of the most chaotic fights Tony had ever been a part of- including that Chitauri battle. His teeth were bared as he sent out missiles and shot repulsor blasts, and even as he felt ribs bruise and blood leak, he didn't stop. His quips soon died down to simple grunts and curses, and it was clear that this fight wouldn't end in a joke and a mysterious exit.

This was to-the-death. It fucking _had to be._

He was well-aware that he wouldn't be killing a god today.

"Stark, what in the hell is going on?" Jarvis must have patched Fury through. Or maybe he'd been forced to. Either way, Fury knew he wasn't admiring from afar.

"He spotted me," he lied through a grimace. "Believe it or not, red and gold doesn't camouflage well." Loki had him by his shoulder, and squeezed. He heard the metal groan, and felt it indent against his flesh.

"Jarvis, chest blast-" An easy dodge on Loki's part, and Tony felt himself losing. He wasn't sure whether he were happy, or disappointed that he hadn't lasted all that long.

"You fight differently today, Stark," Loki observed, slicing an impossibly sharp knife through the armor. A few wires were cut, and he lost the ability to shoot a repuslor blast from that hand. He also couldn't move his fingers, but he doubted he'd be crocheting anytime soon anyway.

"I like changing things up," he replied, twisting away from the knife and turning just in time to shoot a blast from his other hand. It grazed Loki's shoulder, and the god grinned.

"Your change seems decidedly for the worse." His hand suddenly crashed against Tony's chest plate, and the engineer let loose a single gasp as he felt the fingers brush against his skin past his torn shirt. Inside the suit. Was he going to go full out Mola Ram and rip his heart out?

Christ, what a way to go. Still, he couldn't find himself regretting his actions.

Loki arched a brow as he didn't move, didn't defend himself. His fingers remained pressed against Tony's chest for a moment longer, before they at last receded. He stared hard as Tony remained still. His suit had sustained some serious damage. But fuck it. He could still fight.

Five minutes later, even that luxury abandoned him. Loki crouched down beside his fallen form, the armor depleted of life just as its creator was. Tony didn't close his eyes as he anticipated the final blow. He didn't intend to blink in the face of death. Fuck that. He'd wink, maybe.

But the fatal blow wasn't delivered. Instead, he felt a rough jerking motion on his head, heard the tell-tale cracking, and then the helmet was gone. He coughed reluctantly, swallowing small bits of dust and dirt as his face collapsed down onto the ground. He heard the helmet drop somewhere a few feet away, carelessly discarded now that it had stopped protecting his skull.

"Stark?"

"What? Can't figure out how to kill me?" Predictably, Loki didn't rise to the bait.

"Oh, no. I can manage that quite easily. I am more curious as to why you wish me to."

"I don't. I was trying to kill you." He tried to sound forceful, but it sounded false even to his own ears.

"Though you certainly fought with more-" A pause as if he were choosing the least offensive word, which was just stupid, because Loki doesn't care about offending people. "-fierceness, I cannot help but feel your past animosity did not fuel it. At least, not entirely." A small pause, again. Loki was just fucking off tonight, and it figured that Tony would get him when his more insane half wasn't in custody of his body. "And you fought like a man who did not intend to leave the battlefield."

Tony breathed in the dirt, wishing he were elsewhere. Hearing Loki taunt him wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind when he provoked him, but he supposed the demi-god wasn't known for doing what people wanted. He probably knew Tony's motivations, and was choosing to let him live just because he preferred that he suffer.

It was fucking _sick_.

"Stark, wha-"

"Brother!" He could almost hear the grimace of his would-be tormentor. "Move away from the Man of Iron!"

"And how would you enforce such a command, _brother_?" Spat Loki, now standing. Tony watched his shoes stiffen against the dirt, as if he were bracing himself for an attack. Probably one he'd be encouraging any second now.

Well, Tony mulled as he closed his eyes sluggishly. His death could be a symptom of warring gods. That sounded pretty damn bad-ass in his opinion.

"I ask as one for whom you once held affection. Anthony Stark-" How many times had he told him to just call him 'Tony'? If he lived, he'd be making sure that message sunk in. "-has done you no unjust harm. Indeed, had you not forced hostilities this night, battle might have been avoided."

"Indeed?" Loki asked, bemused, and when Tony forced his eyes open, there were unreadable green orbs fixed on him. "A pity, then, that I am so _hostile_."

"His death need not come by your hand, Loki," Thor continued, voice urgent and hopeful. "-step away from him, and we shall not pursue."

"What-?" Tony grunted out, throat slick (blood?), but rough. "Fuck that, Thor, just catch him. He's too dangerous to be allowed into every diner he sees." Loki smirked, but Thor's face remained resolute and stiff.

"Nay. Though your sacrifice is well-intended, you are my shield-brother. I will not forsake you."

"It's cool-!" Tony urged. "I'm okay with being forsook!"

"Be silent." He'd never heard Thor be so serious, and it reminded him (with a little bit of trepidation) that Thor was hardly a random guy with a hammer. He was a goddamn prince, and, when he wanted it, had no small amount of command. Tony couldn't help but press his lips together, at a loss for any smart remark.

"I suppose you must have some greater incentive for me to let this being live?" Loki drawled, pacing slowly around Tony. He was never far enough that Thor could comfortably attack, but he was never still. "I already could be free, you understand. I believe I require something more."

"What would you have?" Thor demanded, his voice a boom that shook the ground Tony's face was pressed against.

"I would have your head on a plate, Asgard beneath my feet, and all of Jotenheim destroyed. Midgard would be naught but an old legend, and any remnants of its survivors would be too frightened to step into the sun. That is what I crave, _dear brother_, and that is the price for this mortal's life." A boot was suddenly on Tony's armored back, and he sucked in a (terrified? Relieved?) breath as he expected it to be forced down. Instead, the weight lessened. "But then, what fun would there be in his demise this moment? Very little. Be wary, Thor, for death lurks as I wish it to, and your mortal allies are no more than that: mortal." The weight was suddenly gone completely, and Tony gasped in surprise as Thor was promptly before him. A confused Thor, certainly, but a relieved one.

"Man of Iron-" He exclaimed, hoisting Tony up with cautious strength. "-Are you well?"

"Just banged up," Tony assured him, nodding to his back. "See those slits?"

* * *

"I simply do not understand." Thor lamented, frowning at his hands as his forehead creased. Clint snorted derisively at Tony's left, and the engineer smirked in his direction. As if the Loki equation were really that difficult. The guy was nuts, and Thor was biased.

There. Solved.

"What, exactly, happened?" Rogers asked, frowning. Tony rolled his shoulders, still feeling the aches and pains of the previous night. His mania had fizzled a little, and though the unsettling feeling in his stomach remained from the break-up, he certainly wasn't planning on taking any more half-baked fights to Loki. It had been a bad night, that's all, and he'd been busy since and he wasn't going to let himself think about it too much. Thinking had always been his problem.

"I arrived when Stark had been incapacitated-"

"-the polite version of saying I'd had my ass kicked thoroughly-" Tony interjected with a terse nod and sly wink.

"-and Loki appeared to be speaking to him." A few heads turned, and the engineer shrugged.

"All the old villain crap. 'You can join me', 'prepare to die', 'you've foiled my plans for the last time', yadda yadda." They all nodded- knowing these lectures by heart- and returned their attention to Thor.

"I attempted to reason with him-" Another snort from Clint, which Natasha silenced with a curt glance. "-but seemingly to no avail. When at last he seemed prepared to kill the Man of Iron, he stopped, claimed it would be of little amusement to him at the moment, and vanished. I immediately took Anthony Stark-"

"Seriously, just Tony."

"-to the Helicarrier, at which point his injuries were seen to."

"What I want to know is how a simple recon mission resulted in your ass being handed to you." Fury growled. Tony raised his hands in innocence.

"In my defense, I've never claimed to be the subtle one in the group. I can blow stuff up great, but if you want the footsteps to be quiet, I'm not the guy you call." He raised his brows. "Have you ever even seen my suit?" Clint snorted- now with more amusement than derision- and Bruce hid a smile behind a strategically-placed hand.

"You were in the area," Fury muttered, shaking his head. "Forgive me for thinking you could handle a simple stake-out."

"You're lucky I'm in a forgiving mood. What drugs did you guys give me? I've gotta make a note to Pepper-" His voice croaked almost involuntarily, but he passed it off as a post-pubescent voice crack. "- to pick some up." Fury raised an eyebrow knowingly, but the rest of the Avengers appeared ignorant. Thank god. His recent relationship issues shouldn't be on the 'need-everyone-to-know' basis. "I'll just read the receipt." He finished lamely, crossing his arms.

"You do that. For now...Thor, do you think Loki will make good on his threat against Stark?" Thor remained quiet for a moment, face still twisted up in that look of morose frustration.

"I am afraid I do not understand my brother's motivations or actions at this time." He revealed at last. "Had his madness been what it seemed, I would not have expected him to let Stark live. To be truthful, I thought my negotiations had no chance of succeeding." There was a thick silence after this admission, and Tony squirmed to try to ease the tension.

"Well, good thing. He probably didn't lay the ax down because he wants to be unpredictable, right?" Thor frowned at him.

"That is certainly a possibility. But I do not think it a likely one. My brother does not act purely for his reputation or appearance. His mind is logical. Or," He blinked tiredly. "-it was in the past. I fear your death was the only logical action he might have taken. That he did not take it confuses me greatly."

"So he's got a plan for Stark." Rogers surmised, lips thinning.

"Before he readied to kill him," Thor murmured. "-he spoke strangely. With great venom. He said that he aches for my death, for the ruination of Asgard, Jotenheim and Midgard. His anger seemed misplaced." He sat straighter, baring his wide shoulders. "My brother may be a master of deceit, but I know him well. Better than he might care to admit. His speech- so filled with hatred, with such _fury_- was not sincere."

"You're thinking a misdirection." Natasha stated, eyes narrowed. "But for what? Galaxy-wide destruction? It's a wide net."

"Aye," Thor agreed wearily. "There is nothing for him to hide, nothing that I saw or suspected. I must..." He stood. "-I fear I must have missed something as we conversed. I was never as observant as he. I will rest in my chambers, and consider what I recall." Fury dismissed him with a curt nod, face indiscernible though certainly thoughtful. After a moment, he nodded to himself and turned to the others.

"Rogers, Romanov, Banner, Barton: you're dismissed." The other members glanced at Tony with some confusion- except Natasha, obviously, who just pursed her lips and left- but removed themselves from the room.

"I think you missed a name." Tony stated, standing to take his exit.

"Stark." He paused in his stride, not too eager to speak with Fury alone. "_Stark_." He turned at last, schooling his features into a perfect imitation of innocence and confidence.

"I've got a world to save and a god to avoid, Fury; make it fast." The director stalked towards him, his remaining eye so narrowed that it almost appeared as though it were closed. His finger stabbed Tony's chest- right where Loki had hit him the night before, and he was fairly certain the position of the jab was well-intended. He couldn't repress the flinch completely, and the dark eye before him seemed well-aware that he wasn't nearly as put-together as he'd presented himself.

"You ever pull that shit again, Stark, you're off the initiative."

"I don't know what you mean," he managed, tone too defensive, and the eye remained open, daring him to fucking _blink_. He had the odd thought that, while he'd inevitably blink in the face of death, Fury was good enough that he would go out winking, no matter what. He couldn't help the pang of jealousy.

The step back was involuntary, but Fury called it a surrender. He left Tony's personal space, nodding slightly.

"Now get out."

"No inspiring words of wisdom?" Tony asked as he pulled his sunglasses from his coat pocket, thankful he'd finally be able to hide behind them.

"If you're that fucked-up, see a SHIELD therapist. Inspirational enough?" Tony snorted at the thought of feeding Stark Intel directly into Fury's grubby paws, and nodded.

"As a valedictorian speech. Consider me 'wooed'." He tried to make his stride casual, but he figured Fury noticed the false bounce in his step.

* * *

See? It was longer than the other ones, as promised. I'll try to get the next one up tomorrow, but I'm going to be super busy and therefore might not update until Sunday or Monday. And might I just say that I love writing Fury? He comes back more in the future just because I like seeing him interact with Tony. I think I might write a oneshot with him and Tony in the future- there aren't enough Fury & Tony interaction fics out there (I know, I've looked desperately). Thanks for reading, and I'll try to update soon.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello again. Sorry about the delay- I meant to upload this ages ago, but, once again, life kinda distracted me. It's actually my birthday today, and I figured the rest of the week will be chaotic, so thought I'd just upload this now. Unfortunately, that also means uploads will be a little sporadic, at least until next week. But reviews are always a great incentive! On that note, thanks again to everybody who has reviewed/favorited/bothered to read this far.

And look! The chapters are staying (relatively) long! This one is actually only, like, 3,000 words, but it's a far cry from those 500-word ones, so I call it progress.

* * *

-Chapter 6-

The sixth incident was the one wherein he began to really suspect something was up. It was a good week after he'd risked his life- and the lives of three civilians, damn him- and a few days since he'd returned to New York. After avoiding ten of Pepper's calls, she eventually showed up herself.

"If you're so interested in avoiding me, you might as well revoke my access to this place."

"Jarvis likes you too much," he replied, turning his chair to face her. He wished he'd seen her visit coming- he would have showered, or shaved, or done anything at all to make himself seem less like a mess. He doubted it would change anything, but at least he wouldn't look so pathetic. Luckily (if it can be called that), she seemed more annoyed than sympathetic.

"You had a meeting today."

"Nuh-uh." He denied with a childish wave. "Remember? I don't go to those anymore."

"You were supposed to go to this one." She replied firmly, removing a thick pile of papers from her purse. Great. Paperwork. He turned back to the screen. "I re-scheduled. I assume you ignored the last packet I left you, so here's a copy. Read it, or at least get Jarvis to summarize it for you. It's _important_, Tony."

"Can't you just give me the gist?" He asked before he could think better of it. Her body language seemed to stutter.

"I-"

"Never mind. Sorry." She let out a breezy sigh, and walked to his side. As she turned to face him head-on, she placed the packet on the only free space his cluttered desk had to offer.

"You didn't return any of my calls, Tony."

"Busy." She glanced skeptically at his computer.

"Re-organizing your music collection?"

"It's vital to the science-ing that goes on here."

"I'm sure it is," she allowed him, eyes drifting down. "I just don't really know what you want from me right now, Tony. You've been avoiding me-"

"Your calls."

"Same thing," she replied exasperatedly. "-and I'm just not sure how I'm supposed to be your PA if I'm not even able to communicate with you." His eyes instantly snapped from his computer screen to her face.

"You're-?"

"No, no," she assured him, and his heart relaxed back into its normal percussion. He couldn't have her resigning now. Losing her completely would have been too much. "Look, Tony, I understand that you need time, that you need space. So I'll wait until you return one of my billion calls, and then things can just be normal again." She smiled thinly, and there was affection there- real affection, just not the affection that had been there a few weeks before. "Okay?"

"Understood," he agreed, throwing her a sloppy salute that encouraged a larger, stronger smile.

"And if you don't sign those papers, I will literally take over the company and stop sending paychecks your way." He smiled. The threat would probably have held a bit more devastating consequences had it been given before, but that there was a threat at all was improvement. And damn if that wasn't an odd sign of progress.

"I'm a trust fund baby; I'll make do." She rolled her eyes, his own relief reflected in them, and stalked out. He returned to his 'work', making sure the songs of his playlist fit the mood he was expecting to be in as he worked. He needed loud, lyrically ridiculous, and distracting.

"So you and your mate are having difficulties." He didn't jolt- he can put that point in his court. His finger acted as if it had planned the motion all along, as it flew to the small key that would spring a silent alarm. Impossibly, it was caught before it could reach its destination. "I am pleased to see you have found self-preservation skills once more. This visit would have become tedious had you continually attempted to fall upon my knives." Tony withdrew his finger, mildly relieved when the digit wasn't simply kept within the demi-god's grasp.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'm not really in the mood for visitors." His voice was calm. And there: another point.

"Due to the quarrel." He shook his head in mild bewilderment.

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"Your woman," Loki responded indifferently, eyes flashing to the computer and back before Tony could blink. "-though, is she your woman still?"

He almost said "_It was mutual"_ before he found sense enough to bite his tongue.

"Believe it or not, I'm not in the mood to spew my guts at you, any more than you're actually interested in hearing about my exciting love-life. Can we focus on the reason for your little appearance in what's supposed to be a secure-as-hell building?"

"Technology offers little defense when it is pitted against magic. I must say, however, that your system was not as trifling as the other Miðgarðrian ones I have surpassed." At Tony's look, he added, "It is quite impressive, though still a simple matter to overcome."

"Well, golly gee, don't I feel all warm inside. I'm still waiting for a reason." Impossibly, Loki's face burst into a grin.

"You show so little care for your own well-being." Tony resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, or break his skull against a wall. He had so little interest in playing 'superhero' at the moment.

"Okay, you want caution? Jarvis, alert the other Avengers." When there was no reply, his eyes flickered upwards. "Immediately." Loki continued to look amused at his side, still defending the little key that, apparently, remained functioning. "Okay, he's on mute, but they're on their way."

"Did you truly imagine that I would believe such obvious deceit?"

"It wasn't one of my smarter plans. What do you want?" Loki seemed content to evade his questions (scratch that, he'd only asked one damn question), and instead asked,

"What occurred between you and the woman?"

"Sorry, I have a habit of not telling trespassers with a history of manipulation details about my love-life."

"Or lack thereof," Loki drawled, eyes flashing with humor and something else that wasn't so readily apparent.

"Trust me, sweetheart, I could have a love-life any time I wanted by going to any bar in the city. Now, how about you wait here, and I'll come back more appropriately-dressed for our conversation." He stood with more confidence than he felt, hoping that Loki would at least have the decency to let him get in his suit before he tried to murder him. It was basic villain etiquette. Besides, it didn't seem logical that he'd squander his opportunity in the desert just to kill him when he was in jeans and a ratty t-shirt.

However, because Loki just so loved to be unpredictable, a hand snatched his forearm before he could walk three feet.

"I'd prefer you remain where you are," Loki told him coolly, and the preference felt more like a demand as he pulled Tony back to his seat.

"I feel a bit underdressed," Tony mentioned, nodding at the outlandish garb the demi-god was wearing.

"I don't mind."

"Still, I got the memo that this was going to be a casual thing, and you're wearing black tie. Well, technically, deer horns, but I'm pretty sure it's the Asgardian equivalent." Loki didn't react with any particular vitriol towards his taunts, and instead just smiled more. It was seriously off-putting, and Tony decided to find a Plan D. He couldn't really _find_ a Plan D, however, so he released a tendril of a sigh and rolled his eyes. "What do you _want_?"

"You and your woman-"

"Jesus, dude, she's not my woman! For all intents and purposes, ignore her. If you're thinking of kidnapping her or something, just quit it. We broke up. I'd still murder you if you tried to hurt her even a little, so don't get any nasty-ass ideas in that meowing brain of yours, but she's not my girlfriend, she's not my mate, she's not my _woman-_ we. Broke. Up." Loki raised a brow at his rant, but the upward tilt to his lips made Tony feel as though he'd revealed something he wasn't supposed to.

What if he killed her? What if he murdered Pepper? Jesus, it made his stomach lurch just to think about it, but before he could threaten Loki if he so much as disturbed a hair on her head, the god had vanished.

Just as well, Tony figured past a staggering breath. Had he gotten the threat out, Loki would have been encouraged by it. Probably would have killed her to spite him, even if it didn't further any of his plans.

"Jarvis?"

"Here, sir." Thank every god ever (except that one).

"Tell Fury I want him to get some people watching her. At all times."

"Shall I call her?"

_So I'll wait until you return one of my billion calls, and then things can just be normal again._

"Uh, just fill her in. Still busy." Jarvis didn't respond- proof he didn't approve- as Tony went back to his playlist. Deciding it was close enough to completion, he upped the volume until the screws on his workshop counter shook.

* * *

"Have you got an explanation, Stark?" Tony resisted the flinch that this goddamn day made him feel like giving. His own body was betraying him. That might have been the lack of sleep, though. And the angry baritone. "Or are you really asking me to use my resources to stalk your ex?"

"Ew. No." He shook his head pointedly. "If I wanted to stalk her, I've got a team of private eyes. I need-" And that hurt, really, because he didn't like owing Fury anything, and asking for favors really wasn't his deal. "I require a few of your fine agents to be the creepy people that they are at heart and just...watch over her. I don't need, y'know, _updates_-"

"Are you under the impression that she's in danger?" Fury interrupted, and _there_ was the flinch. Fury seemed to notice it as his one eye narrowed. "If you're interested in my resources, Stark, and my 'fine agents', I suggest you tell me what the hell is going on." Tony wondered if he looked as bad as he felt. He'd tried to ooze the normal debonair charm that Fury so loved to hate, but it was getting to be a challenge.

"Loki. He didn't say he was going after her, but he kept asking about her, and-" He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. To his credit- and Jesus, was he actually starting to get soft on the one-eyed nutcase?- Fury didn't interrupt, or snort derisively, or do anything particularly awful. He sat patiently, lips thinning as he waited for Tony to continue. But, then again, the man was a master at getting what he wanted to know, and he was probably well aware that Tony needed a few seconds. "He kept asking about the break-up. I think he's aware that I'm-" _emotionally compromised. Off my rocker at the moment. _"-that I've been a little off since it happened." And there was the snort. It wasn't so much derisive as genuinely amused at the understatement of the fucking century. "I think he was probably going for emotional manipulation. Unfortunately for him-" The smirk returned in full-force as he shoved away anything Fury could use against him, any vulnerabilities he didn't need to show a man whose secrets probably spied on his other secrets. "-I'm not filled to the brim with gooey feelings."

"Of course," Fury agreed with a fierce, knowing grin. "We're lucky." He stood, nodding his head, and Tony gratefully hopped to his feet as well. "Potts will have a constant team of five on her trail. Did you make her aware of the potential threat?" Tony's eyes flickered anywhere but at that eye.

"I made sure she was told." Not fooled, of course, because he's not even close to being an idiot.

"Then I'll see whether she'll want a personal escort along with the team. If Loki tries entering the same _county_, he'll have holes in him."

"And _that_-" Tony said with the first sincere grin since- well, since a long time. "-is what I like to hear." He avoided shuffling as he prepared for the next question. Better not to have it thrown in his face later. "So, her security team..." Fury lowered his head slightly to indicate he was listening. "What's the, y'know."

"No, I do not 'know'." Fury responded, sounding annoyed. He did seem to have more patience than usual, though, and Tony attributed it to the fact that he was acting completely unlike himself. He always thought Fury would be happier if he weren't his usual (wonderful) self.

"I mean, we're businessmen," Tony declared with a broad grin that said he wasn't annoyed about owing Fury a scratched back. "-so, I'm asking what the price is."

"The price."

"For-" Another awkward glance anywhere else. "-Jesus, Fury, just tell me what itch you've got. I really haven't got the time to put up with this shit."

"Itch? What in the hell are you talking about?" Fury demanded, and he did sound as though Tony had thrown him for a loop. He tended to do that to people, but wasn't this obvious?

"For Pepper." He persisted, and Fury seemed to grow even angrier.

"Are you asking me what you've got to do to keep Virginia Potts safe?" Finally, some goddamn logic. He nodded stiffly, brows furrowed together as he awaited the reply. He could handle it so long as it wasn't a weapons contract. Not that he wouldn't do it- he'd have to do it (SHIELD was the only department half-way equipped for dealing with Loki)- but fuck, he really didn't _want_ to. But it was Pepper. He was willing, quite frankly, to scratch any itch he had to. And damn, that sounded dirtier than he meant it to, even in his own mind. "Stark, I wasn't aware that this needed saying."

"Well, obviously it does, becau-" His harsh voice was cut off by an exceedingly sharp look. He quieted. Play the good boy until Pepper is safe. Then you can be your normal jackass self.

"You are a goddamned asshole, and there are often times I'm tempted to shoot you with my own gun just to make you shut up until you wake up in the medical wing." Tony's lips thinned.

"Inspiring." He ground out, hands fists at his side. But he wasn't allowed to respond too much, now, because the call hadn't been made yet. Pepper was worth all of this shit, even if she didn't love him anymore.

"But-" Fury continued, and his eye was piercing. "You are also a goddamned Avenger, and that means you're under my supervision, my management, my direction, and my protection." Tony's brows furrowed a little more, because this didn't sound like the gear-up for, 'Give me the blueprints for your suits', or 'I want ten thousand guns more powerful than everyone else's'. This sounded like...well, quite frankly, it sounded like nothing he'd heard before. He had no idea where it was going, which was definitely off-putting, because he was usually quite adept at figuring things out. Must be the lack of sleep, he thought, as he waited for the punchline. When it was apparent there wouldn't be one any time soon, he decided to jump start the process.

"Um, I don't really-" When Fury didn't help, he resigned himself to admitting he had no idea what was going on. "I don't know what that means. I mean, sounds inspirational, really great, but really fucking stuck on the comprehension part." Fury's lip quirked.

"You saved the world, Mr. Stark. Call this one a freebie." Tony felt as if someone had suddenly ripped a boulder off of his back, and tossed it far away.

"You're- no weapon contracts?" If possible, Fury looked even more amused.

"I was under the impression you were out of the weapons business, Mr. Stark."

* * *

And now Loki knows that Tony is available, Tony is getting over Pepper (and they're getting back on better terms), and Fury is bein' wonderful. And, yeah, I couldn't resist Fury's part. I really did love any scene with him. But it does serve a purpose, so it's not completely irrelevant to the rest of the story. Now it's just up to Loki to actually woo Tony, instead of just not killing him. And since Tony has, actually, no idea why he keeps getting a free pass, said 'wooing' will probably involve wacky shenanigans.


	7. Chapter 7

This is the longest chapter so far, at over 5 thousand words. The reason it's so long is probably because we finally get a Tony/Loki heavy chapter, with loads of dialogue.

Thanks for the favs/reviews/follows. If it weren't for those, I'd've probably lost interest. Oh, and for the birthday wishes! You lot are very courteous.

* * *

-Chapter 7-

He was sitting on his couch, which was impossibly covered in dust and locked away in the chasms of a cave that had been blown away years before. He was frozen in place, and whether it were because of the device he was dimly aware existed or because of the cold that stretched out from the shadows didn't matter. All that mattered were the words he could almost hear. Words that praised his ideas and celebrated his death in the same breath. He saw a man dying, too far to reach, but close enough that he could see every drop of sweat and blood. And then he was- inexplicably- on a surgery table, feeling everything and hearing everything and seeing everything, and yet only able to focus on the face of the man mutilating his chest. He tried to warn him, desperately tried to warn him, but only succeeded in screaming louder, and he still couldn't move, couldn't control his limbs, and he was flailing, and Yinsen was dying, and even though he couldn't see him, he knew Obie was watching from the shadows.

"_Fuck_-" Tony lurched forward sickly, his brows slick with sweat and his chest heaving. He took a few moments to compose himself, breathing heavily as the memories of the nightmare flew away, leaving only a few snippets of a dark cave and a dying face. It'd been a while since he'd last dreamt of Afghanistan, and he supposed he'd been lucky for the break. He brushed a palm across his face, then collapsed back against the mattress.

It'd been nearly three years, and Obie was still haunting him like a ghost who couldn't take a hint.

He closed his eyes, testing the waters, but his stomach churned at the idea of sleeping.

"Yeah, fuck that," he agreed, sitting up again as he glanced at his alarm clock. 2:43. A grand total of four hours in three days. He'd gone longer with less. "Jarvis, hit the lights and prep the lab." He frowned as the AI didn't respond, and his room remained dark. "Jarvis?"

"I'm afraid he'll remain unresponsive." Tony spun, the sheets bunched around his ankles twisting at the movement. He could vaguely see a shape in the surrounding darkness.

"Um, any particular reason?" The shape moved closer, and Tony could almost make out the features of a familiar face.

"I felt our conversation might be cut short were he able to do as you asked."

"Yeah, that's a pretty safe bet," Tony agreed, crossing his arms irritably. "And why, exactly, are you in my bedroom at three in the morning? You're aware mortals sleep, right? You can schedule a meeting, if you're so interested in a 'conversation'."

"I've always preferred more unorthodox methods."

"Obviously."

"You do appear to be awake." Had he only just arrived? Maybe he'd missed the freak-out.

"I'm a light sleeper. You climbing up the drain pipe probably woke me up." He thought he caught the furrow of a brow- did they even have drain pipes in Asgard?- but it was too dark to be certain. "So," Tony continued, when it seemed obvious Loki wasn't going to say anything to that. "-have you got a reason for showing up in the middle of the night, or...?" Loki decided to ignore any semblance of logic, and, instead of explaining why he'd shown up, said,

"I had expected, due to your reputation, that you would not cover yourself so thoroughly." Tony glanced down at his long-sleeved shirt and sweat pants.

"I used to sleep naked." He offered. He figured that, if he wanted to keep Loki from killing him, he ought to gather up something in the way of words. And, because it was three in the morning and he hadn't slept for two days, his mouth just said what it wanted to.

"Why did you stop?" Loki accepted his peace offering, and Tony breathed a little easier.

"Stuff like this. I don't think either of us would have been too happy if I were naked right now." A pregnant pause that Tony was much too tired to notice, much less comprehend. "I'd prefer to be kidnapped or killed while dressed. Preferably during the day-time, but I can see that's too much to ask for."

"You are perspiring quite a bit, Mr. Stark." Tony frowned down at his chest. Yep. He was sweating like he'd just run a marathon (ha! As if he could run a marathon). "Do I make you nervous?"

"Don't flatter yourself. It's just hot." He leered past the shadows at those green eyes. "It's because I'm in here."

"Would you like me to make it cooler?" Instantly, the temperature dove. Tony involuntarily shivered, and drew the thin sheet he'd kicked away up against his chest.

"Shit. I'd prefer getting stabbed to frostbite." He managed past teeth that had already begun to chatter. Was it possible his comfortable 68° had actually fallen into the negatives? That quickly? The chilled air that tumbled visibly out of his mouth seemed to support this theory. "Okay, you've shown off. Make it warmer or I'll be the second Avenger to live in an iceberg." He expected Loki to say something like, 'So?'. But the room was quiet. He could vaguely see the motions that encouraged the frost on his shoulders to melt away.

"Better?"

"Swell." Tony ground out, hoping he didn't look as childish as he felt as he stayed beneath the sheet. The cold had reminded him of his nightmare, and _fuck_, he didn't need to think about that while he was sitting opposite a god that preyed on weakness.

"You appear to be agitated."

"Sorry, is your visit not reason to be agitated?" He grunted, swinging his legs out of the bed. As long as he stayed there, he'd feel vulnerable. He needed to be on more neutral ground, where they were both either standing or sitting. "Me, I personally think I have reason to be plenty agitated. I deserve a drink. I'll be a good little host: am I pouring for two?" He could see Loki better, now, in the dim light that slipped past his shirt. The god's lips flickered upwards.

"If my host offers it, I am glad to indulge." Tony nodded, walking toward the bar with a jittery anxiety playing havoc with his stomach. It always came up when he was courting danger for no reason. Why hadn't he checked Jarvis again? Well, that was simple, wasn't it? Loki shut off the AI as if he weren't a challenge, weren't the most technologically advanced system on Earth, and seeing as how he'd strolled into Tony's bedroom unnoticed, the AI probably wasn't still up. Asking for him would just result in that condescending smirk, that tilted head, that 'I'm better than you' eye twinkle.

"Choose your poison." Tony told him, opening the cabinet with a theatrical flourish he couldn't resist.

"My 'poison'." Loki repeated, suddenly beside him. Tony just closed his eyes and took a thin breath. No jumping, no jolting, no screaming, 'Holyfuckdon'tdothat', or else Loki would know it bothered him. Hide your cards.

"Y'know, your drink. What you want. To drink." And there goes his ability to speak. Loki didn't bother mocking him, and simply lifted long fingers for a bottle on the top shelf.

"This appears unopened." He observed. Tony nodded indifferently.

"Saving it for a special occasion. Lemme pop it open." He'd nearly forgotten about it. Technically, champagne didn't really need (or want) aging, but it wouldn't hurt it after such little time. It did need to be chilled first, though.

"Is this a special occasion?" Loki asked, eyes flashing as Tony made his way to the kitchen.

"Well, I'm unarmed and not dead. So, yeah, special occasion. It'll have to chill, though." Loki was suddenly in front of him.

"I can do that."

"Ah. Right." Tony managed past a dry mouth. Why did he use teleportation so _casually_? "The ice show thing. Yeah, go for it." He handed the bottle back to Loki, who cooled it slightly before returning it.

"If I remember correctly," Loki continued lazily, sitting down on one of Tony's couches. "-there have been a few special occasions, then."

"A few?" Tony echoed, before remembering that he had to be sharp right now. Who knew what Loki was planning? "I remember the one with the masked guys. And thanks for that, by the way. My living room stank like corpse for a good week. When else?" Loki looked impossibly serious, barely glancing up as Tony popped the cork from the bottle. As he poured the bubbly alcohol into two glasses and handed one of them to Loki, the god's face remained unreadable.

"You nearly died that eve, Stark."

"Nah," Tony told him with a careless wave. "They were just going to kidnap me. They wouldn't have killed me for at least a week." Loki's face was a bit amused as he scanned Tony. Feeling the attention, Tony unconsciously straightened and took a sip. Very sweet. He was never a fan of sweet. She was, of course. Of course.

"Why did they wish to capture you?"

"Same reason everyone does, I guess," Tony replied with a casual shrug, attempting to hide his stiff posture as he sat. "My genius, my money, my connections. You like it?" Loki blinked at the rapid change of subject, but flowed with it. Maybe he'd noticed the new tension. But then wouldn't he prod? Tony shook away the tangent, focusing on his guest's words.

"Too sweet for my liking, I must admit. I am also partial to stronger ales. Midgardian alcohol in general does little to me, but this in particular seems very..._tame_."

"Yeah, like I said, it's for celebrations more than getting drunk. Like birthdays, or successes, or weddings."

"So, following my conquering of Midgard, tradition dictates it is this that I am to guzzle?"

"If you've conquered Earth, I think you get to make up new traditions," Tony told him with a wink. He straightened again. "Not that you'll be conquering Earth anytime soon."

"Of course," Loki allowed as he took another sip. "-your Avengers would stop me again, I assume?"

"Well, yeah." Tony finished his glass. This wasn't how he wanted to be drinking this. He'd had enough late-night alcohol- this was supposed to be a daytime drink. This was supposed to be after a gleeful 'Yes!', and a smattering of kisses and giggles, not after a nightmare and a trespassing. "We're pretty good at stopping you."

"I can make as many mistakes as I wish," Loki told him with a casual smile that was anything but. "You and yours may only make one."

"Wrong." Tony denied, lifting a finger to emphasize his point. "We can make loads of little mistakes. It's just the biggies we've got to look out for. And, lucky us, we won't be making any of those anytime soon."

"Anytime soon." Loki repeated.

"Ever." Tony grunted, pouring more of the champagne into his glass. When was the last time he ate? It wasn't as if this were going to affect him regardless of whether he'd eaten- his liver was a thing of pride- but he could feel it swishing about an empty stomach. "Want more?" Loki pushed his glass forward, but wasn't so willing to let go of this portion of the conversation.

"And what would a big mistake entail, Stark?"

"Are you asking me for help on your Take-Over-The-World homework? Because that's cheating, and I don't approve."

"I doubt you would approve of a great many things that I do." Tony ignored the way his stomach twisted at those words.

"Yeah, well, I don't think many people would give their blessing on genocide."

"Not genocide," Loki corrected, scrunching his nose up as if disgusted by the very thought. "I never intended to kill all of you."

"Then you were off to a terrible start." Tony retorted tonelessly, as he relaxed more into his position. He could handle conversations, arguments."Do you know how many people you killed? During that first invasion?"

"I doubt, highly, that I would gasp at the number."

"Over three thousand. There are still at least a hundred missing." Loki gave an exaggerated look of surprise, lifting a single hand over his mouth. Then his lips relaxed into a smirk. When Tony merely glared at him, he seemed to falter, letting his expression of obvious amusement fall down to something else. Still amused, definitely, but there was some other emotion tugging at his features.

"You seem riled, Stark."

"I guess I've always had a pet peeve for mass murderers that just write off thousands of deaths. It's this weird thing of mine." Loki's brows furrowed.

"Do you know, Stark, how many reside in Asgard?" Tony poured himself more alcohol, rolling his eyes.

"How, on fucking Earth, would I know that?" Loki allowed himself a small smirk.

"Not even a quarter of the numbers you have here on Midgard. I'd like you to think for a moment. You are a proponent of Math, yes?" Tony felt amusement bubble up unbidden (proponent of math. Yep, that's him), but managed a nod. "Then surely you'll understand how insignificant those numbers are in comparison to the population at large." Tony opened his mouth to argue, but Loki lifted a finger. "Think purely in mathematical terms, Stark. Grant me at least this kindness."

"I don't know why I'm granting you any kindness," Tony spat. But he did, really, because if he didn't, he'd probably be thrown off his own building (again).What was one more added to the thousands that painted Loki's ledger red?

"You have a population of how many?" Loki continued, as if Tony had not scrounged up the token insult. "Over six billion, correct?"

"Yeah." Tony agreed. "But we're not talking numbers, we're talkin-"

"You forget." Loki cut in, eyes clearer than he'd ever seen them. It was as if he had something he desperately needed to say, to get through to Tony. If he were looking for forgiveness, then fuck that. Tony had had enough screw-ups to learn you have to accept responsibility. And when you've killed thousands of people, you've got a hell of a lot of responsibility to take. "We _are_ 'talking numbers'. Strictly numbers. For this moment, see it as a simple equation."

"For 'this moment', fine," Tony finally said. "But it'll still be people in the morning." Loki nodded slightly.

"Over six billion, then."

"Yeah."

"And you said three thousand perished in my first attempt to rule Midgard?"  
"More than that." Tony muttered.

"Then let us name it four thousand. It is a change in your favor. What is the percentage of Midgardians that have died at my hands?" When Tony opened his mouth, Loki quickly amended, "In this particular attack."

"Point zero zero zero zero six percent." Tony answered, the pause taken more to force out the words than calculate. Loki nodded, lips thin.

"You understand that that is not a significant portion of your population." _It's still not good_, a part of Tony wanted to say. But it sounded stupid even in his head, so he remained quiet. "It's negligible." Loki continued at Tony's silence. "And is it not true your population is too large for this realm?"

"That doesn't mean you go around _murdering_ people," Tony replied with a cough of a laugh.

"Then what do you do? What can you do to limit your population before your world chokes? What can you do before your own population dies in vast numbers due to the lack of resources, the lack of a proper form of government strong enough to handle the quantities? Do you limit procreation? Do you send factions off to different realms? Do you just let this realm die off so unsatisfactorily?" Tony's grip on his glass was tight. Loki wasn't here for forgiveness- _he was here to defend his actions_.

"You're not going to pretend you actually wanted anything good for Earth? Your little vacation here was- is- just a temper tantrum because you think Daddy doesn't love you as much as he loves Thor." Loki's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. Tony couldn't help but remember feeling his hands around his throat, his boot on his back, his hands crushing through the suit and touching his vulnerable chest...

He unconsciously shifted, moving his arm slightly to cover the reactor. As if the movement broke the trance the demi-god had been in, Loki blinked wearily and looked down at his glass.

"I suppose you are much too close to see the good that I could do."

"I'm just close enough that I know you'd only do what works for you."

"And if what 'works for me' is what is best for Midgard?"

"If this is the recruitment section of the breaking-and-entering, can I just say 'pass'? I have no interest in teaming up. I'm already in a boy band. Well, Natasha is there, too, and she's definitely not a boy. But I hope you understand the thesis statement of this little essay: no. I don't agree with what you did, I'll never agree that Earth would be better off with you in the metaphorical throne, and it's definitely not bias that's making me say that. Unless enjoying living without being a slave is biased, in which case, yeah, I'm biased." Loki smiled at him, taking a dainty sip from his glass.

"No, I didn't anticipate much willingness in your joining me. I had thought it a possibility, being that you are more intelligent than your fellow Midgardians, but I never entertained the idea that it would be _this_ easy."

"Good," Tony deadpanned. "I'd hate anyone to think I was easy." A smile lit up that shadowed face again, and Tony resisted the urge to drop his gaze.

"I suppose we should move onto another topic, then. This is clearly one that affects us both too personally."

"You're staying?" He couldn't hide the surprise from his tone. Tony was just glad he hadn't uttered the oh-so-intelligent, 'You're not killing me yet?' Loki nodded, leaning back on the couch.

"So long as it is no imposition."

"And if it is?"

"I shall take my leave immediately." Tony snorted, feeling his tense limbs relax again.

"Yeah, I buy that. So, what are we supposed to talk about? The game? Because I don't watch football, and you don't seem like the type to wield a foam finger, anyway." Loki's eyes were shockingly piercing.

"I would like to know what you were dreaming of." Tony, who'd been taking a sip, nearly spat the alcohol out. Thankful that he hadn't done that (the wrath of a spat-on Loki was something he didn't want to even imagine), he merely choked for a few moments. Okay, get your bearings, don't let him see you flail.

"Um, sex dream. Y'know. Orgy. All the Avengers were there. Guess your invite got lost in the mail. Sorry."

"I was in the room for a period of time prior to your awakening. What is 'Yinsen'?" Tony felt every bit of him tense.

"I- um." He brushed a hand through his hair, before sitting forward, heart hammering in his chest. "How long were you in my room?"

"I was planning to wait until you woke."

"That answers absolutely no part of my question." Loki's left eyebrow rose.

"As if your rambling answered any part of mine."

"Then I guess we'll both be disappointed." Loki moved forward, and Tony saw a glint of silver beneath his sleeve. He instantly drew back against his chair, fingers digging into the armrests. Why hadn't he grabbed the damn bracelets? "Jesus, you're going to kill me because I won't give you a tell-all about my dreams!?" Loki raised a brow, followed Tony's gaze, and swiftly revealed the object.

A half-gauntlet.

Just a little bracelet-esque wrist armor. Like the things Thor wore every day.

And he'd reared back like a pony in front of a glue factory. He cracked a shaky smirk, settling back into his position. Okay, his cards were spread on the table, face-up. And they were awful cards. A pair of threes could beat them. Loki knew he was terrified, knew he was vulnerable, knew he was fucking beaten.

_Fuck._

"Thought your bracelet was a knife." He revealed needlessly, hoping his heart wasn't as loud as it seemed. "I always get those guys confused." Loki nodded slowly, then drew his hand into the depths of shadows that Tony's human eyes couldn't pervade.

"This, Stark, is a knife." And Jesus. Yes. Yes, it was. He'd pulled out a jagged shard of metal that looked as clean as if it had never tasted blood in its life- which was obviously not true, because it seemed to gleam with a venom only given to weapons that have been used in abundance. It shined eerily in the dark, and Tony watched with perverse fascination as Loki stood and walked to his side.

"I see you've played knifey-bracelety before." He managed, throat dry. "A real pro." Loki stopped a few inches short of the chair. Tony fought to keep the eye contact. He'd been so busy holding those green eyes that he didn't even notice the movement until he felt the cool silver touch his wrist.

He jolted, and hated himself when he realized the knife had simply been lain there. Loki was already moving back to the couch.

"I did not mean to cause you distress," he was saying. "Had I known of your assumption, I would have laid the falsehood to rest when you woke."

"Falsehood-?" Tony wondered, inspecting the metal shamelessly. It was impossibly smooth- practically felt like velvet- and so sharp that he sliced his chair open before he'd even begun pushing. "What's this made out of?" He questioned before Loki could answer his other query, voice suddenly calm now that he had something to explore.

"It was crafted for me specially by the dwarves of Ivallda, prior to a falling out of sorts."

"Dwarves," Tony snorted, twirling the knife by its tip. It sunk a few inches deeper into the armrest of the recliner. "I really doubt Gimli could have cooked this up." He turned back to Loki, who was watching him with an out-of-place softness. The moment Tony's gaze was noticed, however, Loki's expression turned neutral.

"Gimli?" He repeated.

"A friend of Hawkeye's. How long are you staying?" Loki glanced to the side. The tinted windows couldn't quite deny the room the light of the city, but it was still clear that the sky was dark. That it would remain dark for some time yet.

"When I grow bored, I suppose."

"You want me to lecture? I've gotten Thor to fall asleep a few times on me before I could even explain why atoms acting more like light than sand is exciting."

"I'm afraid I would most likely find interest in whatever you speak of, and your efforts at tedium would prove unsuccessful."

"Oh. Okay. So, what, exactly, do I have to do to get back to my beauty sleep?" A smile crawled its way onto Loki's face, and settled quite contently.

"I should think the answer obvious." Tony scowled, and stood.

"I should get an answer back. Like, tit for tat."

"Tit for tat."

"It's an Earth thing. I'll tell you about the-" He busied himself with retrieving a bottle from the cabinet. Something stronger, because God knows he needs it. "-dream if I get an answer in return."

"An agreement." Loki summed up, and Tony could practically feel his eyes on his back. "And if I refuse?"

"We sit quietly, drinking, until you get so bored you either try to kill me or you just go away." Loki hummed softly in response, and as Tony turned he caught the tail-end of the nod.

"Very well. I agree, so long as I hear your question first." Tony shrugged.

"I don't know it yet. I'll just put it on your tab. So, if we ever have another sleep-over, I can redeem it. I'm too tired to think of anything worthwhile right now." Loki nodded.

"I suppose I agree to those terms, assuming the question asked does not in any great way inconvenience me." Tony scowled, but figured that was probably the best he was going to get.

"Okay, great. I hope that vague restriction doesn't come back to bite me. You want some scotch?"

"Is it stronger than this?"

"More bitter, too."

"Oh, yes, then. Now, your dream?" Tony poured the alcohol first, then settled himself into his seat.

"It's nothing useful."

"I don't intend to utilize the knowledge I gain tonight against you."

"And if your intentions change?"

"The agreement _has_ already been made, Stark. If you wish to let loose the only leverage your team has had against me-"

"We've had plenty more leverage. I had to pay five thousand dollars to fix up the hole the Hulk made with your head. I do like the new tile, though, so I should than-"

"Stark."

"Right." Tony shifted a little more, let his eyes flicker upwards. No maliciousness in that face. But damn it, there wouldn't be. He was too good of a liar to let his evil-ness be that obvious. But there wasn't anything in the nightmare that would prove useful, nothing at all. And if he tried to manipulate him using it- using the things that happened...Tony was too good for that.

It would be too large of a blow to his ego to admit he wasn't.

"You probably know this- you seem like you'd be able to use the internet more than Thor or Steve- but a while back, I got captured during this presentation for a weapon. I used to make weapons, y'know. It's how my family got rich. Making things that go 'boom'. Yeah, but, fuck, whatever, that's pretty irrelevant. But I ended up having this- vacation, I guess you could call it. Overseas, in this mountain range in Afghanistan. Real quaint, real mom-and-pop inn feel to it. They wanted me to build this missile- the Jericho-, and didn't really get how putting me in a room full of potential-explosives was a bad thing."

He risked another look up. Loki was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a good listener. His eyes were dark, but not glazed over. Clearly paying attention, but not interrupting with horrified gasps, sympathetic frowns, or an evil cackle at hearing Tony wasn't invincible. Any of those things might have made it way too hard to continue.

"I ended up staying for a few months." When was the last time he'd summarized his time? He'd only ghosted his way through the debriefing Coulson had forced on him after Obie had tried to murder him (the second time). "A little more than three. Then I blew my way out, being awesome, and headed back to the US where I became Iron Man. But I still, y'know, dream about it a little, even though it doesn't actually matter. There. Now you owe me."

"What of Yinsen?" Tony blinked.

"What?"

"Yinsen. You were quite insistent regarding it. You said it several times." Loki stated calmly, eyes locked on Tony's. Having just given way too much of himself up (but not the important parts, never the important parts), Tony let his eyes flicker to the window.

"Uh, yeah. I was there with him- a doctor. Yinsen. He's a he, not an it. He, y'know, fixed me up. Best as he could, I mean, being in a cave with nothing actual doctors have. He probably opened me up with a pair of rusty scissors and stuck me back together with duct tape."

"What became of him?"

"Suit wasn't big enough for the both of us."

"He died."

"Because he ignored my plan." And it sounded harsh and angry and _bitter, _and Tony realized he'd never said it out loud. "We, uh, had a plan. You know. To escape. He got a little jumpy, cold-feet, y'know. Decided he was going to play hero."

"And he did, I assume."

"Huh?" He frowned over at the demi-god.

"Play hero. He must have succeeded. You are alive."

"I would have gotten out anyway. We _both_ could have escaped. He didn't need to go out and throw himself in front of fucking _bullets_ because I can't-" He was on his feet, and Loki was just staring up at him. Tony faltered. "I-" He sat back down, embarrassed red rushing to his cheeks. He hoped it was too dark for Loki to notice. "Is it time for you to go, now?" Loki's eyes shined, but his voice was calm.

"Is that what you wish?"

"Well, _yeah_." Loki nodded, sweeping to his feet regally.

"As I said, you need only have asked." Tony cocked his head to the side, wondering whether he were actually stupid enough to not have asked Loki to go. But, honestly, who would have expected him to acquiesce to such a request?

"Oh. Okay." Loki stepped toward the chair, then seemed to rethink the action.

"You may keep it," he said casually, but there was an underlying tension that suggested there was a point to his leaving the knife behind. Tony considered giving it back just because of that, but the demi-god was already moving towards the windows. "And Stark- the throne won't be metaphorical. Consider, then, that there could be two."

A haze of green smoke, and Tony was alone.

* * *

I love writing them. If Tony seemed a little OOC, blame it on sleep deprivation on his part. Not to mention he had a lousy dream. And I wanted to make sure that his explanation of how Afghanistan went was highly edited, with no mention of Obadiah and (had he been able to help it) no mention of Yinsen. He basically said what Loki could have found out by looking through any newspaper archive.

I almost didn't post this, because I don't know if it really fits well after the last chapter, but I wanted more Loki/Tony, since this story really isn't about how Pepper and Tony break up. I was considering having a buffer chapter that's more funny than angsty, but then I decided, y'know, let's just have Tony have a nightmare while Loki happens to be in his bedroom. I also figured it'd been a while since my last update, and you guys deserve speedier ones.


	8. Chapter 8

So sorry for the delay. But check it out: another long chapter!

If that isn't enough of an apology, I'll start working on the next one. I'm actually looking forward to a few parts on the way.

* * *

-Chapter 8-

"Tony, what the _hell_?" Pepper was justifiably angry as she stalked over to the counter. Tony pointedly stared at his computer screen.

"You're denying protection?" He blinked owlishly at that. He'd assumed this was a why-didn't-you-call-me-yourself visit.

"I don't need it," he told her. "I have Jarvis, remember? Jarvis, remind her."

"While you certainly have me, sir, it is perhaps best to remember that I may not be able to stop potential attacks." Tony scowled. Jarvis seemed to be taking Pepper's side more than his lately. Maybe he'd lost him in the break-up. Or, perhaps more likely, he was being illogical.

"I still don't need protection," he finally said, voice a bad attempt at soothing. "I'm an Avenger, remember?"

"You're not wearing the suit every hour of every day." He opened his mouth, and she quickly snapped, "You're not wearing it anywhere but to SHIELD-approved fights, Tony. No board meetings."

"I'm avoiding those anyway," Tony answered carelessly, turning his chair so he could face her. "And I'm being extra cautious."

"Your 'extra cautious' is an average person's mid-life crisis."

"Well, it's still progress, isn't it? Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"Do you." Definitely unconvinced, and for good reason. Tony wasn't exactly swayed, either. But he didn't like the idea of having people trail him, SHIELD agents or not.

"I'll figure it out along the way, Pep, you know that." Her features softened imperceptibly, and he wondered when he'd last called her that. "Promise."

"If you get killed, don't expect my eulogy to put you in a good light."

"I'd fire you if it were anything less than scandalous." He stood, shrugging on the jacket he'd left on the counter. "But, until then, I've got a meeting with the gang to get to before that party. Try not shaking off your new stalkers too quickly, huh?"

"Meeting? Is something wrong?"

"Not devastatingly, at the moment. But Loki tried bringing me to the dark side." Her eyes widened slightly.

"Loki? You talked to him?"

"He showed up last night. Or this morning. Either way, he's interested in converting me. Makes a guy feel special."

"Jesus, Tony, he was _here_?"

"Well, on the next floor up. Showed up when I was getting my beauty sleep."

"Are you okay?" There was genuine concern on her face, and, for some reason, it made him feel uneasy.

"No, I'm dying." She rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious, Tony. I've got six people following me everywhere because he _might_ be trying to hurt me, and you've got no one, and he was _here_-"

"Pep." He frowned at her. "I'm fine. He wasn't using me as a punching bag. We just had a few drinks." Her eyes widened almost comically. Just like that, the hook was his home again.

"Drinks? You had _drinks_ with him?"

"I've got a schedule to keep," he told her dismissively (definitely not retreating, here). "I'll see you later, right? You got the papers? I signed them. You saw that I signed them?" She sighed breezily.

"Yes, I saw you signed them. Thank you, Tony. And just- be careful, alright?" He grinned as he left the lab, his PA at his heels.

"When am I ever _not_ careful?"

* * *

"So, if Stark called this meeting, why is he late?" Clint questioned, looking bored. Tony rolled his eyes as he entered.

"Because I'm also running a company. A really successful one. Since I'm in charge of this meeting, it'll probably run much smoother."

"I wasn't aware Ms. Potts would be assisting." Natasha commented dryly. Steve frowned at the engineer as he sat down.

"What's going on? Is everything alright?"

"Peachy. Let's wait for Nicky, though. I think he'll probably have a few questions, and I don't feel like repeating my answers. I've got a busy schedule. Thor here?"

"Didn't you notice the thunder on your flight in? He's been moody." Clint stated. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Well, can we get him in here? I think he'll be interested in the subject matter."

"That being?" Natasha pressed.

"His dear deranged brother, of course." Tony answered, and Clint instantly stiffened at his side. Right. Sore spot. Justifiable sore spot. Ramble to ease the tension."Can we grab him? I'm pretty excited to get this over with. And when was the last time I was so interested in a non-literal debriefing?"

"I'll get him, and tell Fury this is actually serious." Natasha said, standing. Her eyes flickered to Clint, who gave a subtle nod. She took the signal he was apparently sending, and immediately left. Tony glanced at Clint, but the archer gave no indication that he was going nuts. He wouldn't, really, as both he and Natasha were pros as masking emotions.

"I'm expensive, Stark," Clint told him crossly, noticing his heavy gaze. Tony grinned.

"I'm rich." Clint's easy smile returned, as he seemed to sense that Tony wasn't going to interrogate him. As if. Tony was no match for an emotional conversation.

"You still can't afford me."

"You should compromise more in business. Just letting you know. From a tycoon to a, what? Low-income marksman?"

"I get paid better than you'd think," Clint returned. "Your 'donations' foot half my paycheck."

"So I'm technically your boss. I think I deserve a discount." Clint tapped his head to the side, considering.

"Still not rich enough." Tony scowled good-naturedly, snapping his fingers as if he'd been foiled.

"You drive a hard bargain."

"I can drive something har-"

"Barton." Their heads snapped up at Steve's interruption. The soldier's face was beet red, and his hands were fists on the table. "You're at _work_." He stressed. "You have to behave professionally." Clint snorted as Tony smiled.

"We're just teasing, sweetheart. If this were real, you would have been included." Steve, if possible, looked even more embarrassed.

"Even so," he muttered. "Don't you have a girlfriend, anyway?"

"Girlfriend?" Tony repeated, pulse speeding up involuntarily. He was definitely getting better about Pepper, but hearing Steve talk about it as if their relationship had never ended was a little disorientating. "Not for a while, big guy. I thought you were trying to catch up with current events?" Steve now looked more irritated than uncomfortable, but Clint's face had lost all amusement.

"You guys broke up?" Tony shrugged.

"I'm not one for commitment. She was fine with it. I think being my girlfriend made it harder to yell at me anyway." All lies, obviously, but he said it with a straight face and a calm voice.

"So you're _available_." Clint dealt with emotion the same way Tony did: by talking about literally anything else in the world.

"You're too expensive." Tony dismissed him with a grin, and Steve seemed relieved. Natasha chose that moment to enter, and Clint's attention was immediately drawn in. Fury and Thor followed after her, their expressions equally sour.

"Loki." Fury stated it as an opening line, and Tony nodded.

"He stopped by my place last night." The response was immediate- every face was devoid of disinterest, every eye sharp. Clint was a statue beside him, the only sign that he was alive the revenge-minded gleam in his eyes. "He woke me up."

"Did he try to attack you?" Steve demanded, all annoyance forgotten in the face of a potential threat. Tony shook his head, leaning back from the piercing gazes.

"No, no, nothing like that. He was trying to compromise me." His eyes flickered meaningfully to Fury. "Again."

"Again?" Natasha's eyes were narrow.

"If it's relevant, you'll be informed." Fury promised her, though his sights were still on Tony.

"_If_ it's relevant-?" Steve started, but Fury silenced him with a brief glare. He nodded slightly at Tony.

"He tried rationalizing the attack on Manhattan. Then he tried saying that he'd make the world better if he were in charge. It was pretty straight-forward villain fodder, with the intimidation on low. He's trying to get me on his side."

"I do not understand." Thor stated, brows furrowed. Tony had nearly forgotten the god, and his gaze flickered to the large blond man.

"Don't understand what?"

"Why he has such interest in allying himself with you."

"Genius, money, connections." Tony told him frankly, remembering his comment from the earlier conversation. "Those three can be pretty attractive in a slave." Except Loki wasn't offering servitude. If he were to be trusted, he was claiming Tony could have a place at the top. The very, _very_ top. King of the world. It had a pretty ring to it, but Tony wasn't that morally damned.

Not yet, anyway.

"He cares not for money." Thor mumbled thoughtfully. He looked as he had the last time Tony had seen him: wrapped up in some impossible equation he couldn't even vocalize.

"Well, he cares some for power," Tony informed him, resting his elbows on the table. "And if he had me, he'd have some of that. But I think it's mainly because I'm in your rag-tag team of misfits. He seems like the kinda kid that would steal a barbie if he didn't like the person who'd had it." He glanced at his phone. "And then flush the thing down the toilet. Listen, I've got some stuff planned today. I hadn't expected to have to call this meeting. Just keeping you all informed like a good little team player." Steve frowned, brow creasing.

"I don't think it's a good idea to leave."

"Trust me, I agree. I have to go to some gala. It's a sooth-the-board-members type of party, though, so I'll be out in a few hours. I can come back if you need me." Fury nodded.

"I'll send some agents after you. If Loki is targ-"

"Hell no. I said 'no' to protection, remember?" Tony reminded him, straightening his suit as he stood.

"That was before Loki showed up to try and-"

"Bring me to the dark side of the force? Yes. It was. But I'm still on Kenobi's side, so consider yourself lucky and consider me independent. If I die or turn evil by eight tonight, you can say 'I told you so'." He began to move toward the door, but stalled as he felt a hand on his forearm.

"Stark." Clint. Looking way more serious than usual.

"Yeah?"

"Make me your plus one." Tony frowned, then glanced over at the other Avengers. He didn't really want to mix business with, well, other business. He wanted to forget, for the evening, that he had a god trying to kill him. Or trying to manipulate him. But of all the Avengers, Clint was the one he'd prefer to cover him. Other than Bruce, obviously, but the doctor wasn't a fan of social events that required a lot of fake smiling. He wasn't even in town, anyway.

"I'm flattered, but I haven't got the cash." The grip tightened.

"I'll go pro bono."

"I'm sure you're a pro at bo-"

"Stark." Tony breathed through his teeth. Clint was bearable, and, wounded pride aside, it would be best to have a trained agent around if Loki decided to attack a civilian-heavy party. He scowled inwardly at the fact that he needed protection, but still gave a slight nod.

"You'll be dining with the big boys, so get yourself a decent suit. Get to the tower in an hour or I'll be going stag."

* * *

"How about her?"

"Yep."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She tried staying after. It was awkward. Pepper threw her out." Clint appraised the woman at the other end of the room shrewdly.

"Her ears are different sizes."

"Would that be a deal-breaker, Barton?" Clint sent him an amused glance, but didn't even bother answering the question. Instead, he took a small sip of his non-alcoholic martini. Despite Tony's insistent teasing, he continued to remain painfully professional. Well, other than the conversation. "I guess you're busy with Natasha, anyway."

"Busy with Natasha."

"Are you playing coy? You don't pull it off." Clint scowled, and dug his nose deeper into the cocktail glass.

"It's not 'coy' if I'm genuinely unaware of what you're talking about."

"See, that? That's not coy at all. That's pathetic." Clint glared over the rim of his glass.

"You're aware the bulge in my pants isn't just for attracting your sloppy seconds."

"If you shot me, Fury would probably yell at you. And I know personally that that's very boring. And he brings you into a room devoid of signal. So, no, I don't think you're going to use that bulge for anything other than half-hearted flirts that you don't actually want to succeed because you've got a Russian to rush home to." Tony brought his scotch to his lips, wondering what more it would take to get Clint to drop the mission and grab a drink. It'd be more enjoyable if he weren't the only one with a buzz.

And what was the likelihood that Loki was going to show his face again so soon?

He certainly wasn't looking forward to their next meeting. He'd spent his morning unable to even drink himself into a stupor. Every shadow had either been a ghost or a god, and he'd eventually locked himself in his lab. He took one break- to schedule a meeting he didn't want to go to- and hadn't stopped again until Pepper had barged in.

"We're not a thing."

"You've definitely got a thing for her."

"There's no thing." Tony smirked at him.

"Sure thing."

"What about you and Pepper?" Shit.

"What?"

"You're so eager to dissect my so-called love life. What happened there? Because I know the version you told was _highly_ edited."

"Not highly."

"I felt like I was watching Fox News."

"Topical. I like it."

"Avoiding my question, I see."

"Not avoiding. Ignoring. Because you're obviously drunk off your non-alcoholic martini and unaware of what you're talking about. Speaking of obliviousness, do you know Nat is into you, too? Is ignoring the attraction, like, a spy thing?"

"I don't see much of her." Clint admitted, honest and straight-forward for once. Tony turned, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you mean? Every time I see you guys, you're attached at the holster."

"We stay at opposite ends of the compound. We tend to get missions at inconveniently opposite times. I haven't seen her for more than five minutes since the last Avengers thing."

"Why don't you just bunk together? You could be roomies." Clint gave him a look that suggested that that was a dumb question.

"We're private people."

"Ask Fury to make you guys neighbors, then." Clint shrugged.

"It doesn't matter." Tony snorted. He'd never understand romance. If someone were interested, why didn't they just flat-out say it? There seemed to be this weird dance. Clint was obviously into Natasha, and the feelings were just as obviously reciprocated. Why didn't he just say something?

"So, hypothetically, you'd be into living near her as long as no one questioned why you got to see more of each other." Clint gave him an odd look.

"That's a really weird hypothetical, Stark. And I told you: it doesn't matter. Forget it."

"Nope," Tony wagged a finger at him, sloshing the drink in his other hand accidentally. "I'm a problem-solver. You've presented me with a problem. I'm solving it."

"How do you intend to do that?" The archer asked patronizingly, eyes scanning the room. Every few minutes, he'd re-analyze. Searching for a threat that wasn't likely to come.

"Duh. By inviting the Avengers- all of them, even Steve- to live in my humble abode. I'm sure Fury will practically order Natasha to go. I mean, when's the last time he got the opportunity to have such close access to my tech?" Clint actually looked surprised. Considering he tended to cover such spontaneous emotions, Tony considered the expression a win.

"You want us to live with you."

"What can I say- you may have the arrows, but I'm the cupid of the group." Clint snorted.

"You're such a bullshitter."

"Absolutely. But this is the genuine article, a sincere offer. I've had the misfortune to sleep on those cots you lot call mattresses. Trust me: this will be as good for your spines as it will be for your crush."

"Assuming I believe this is real-"

"It is."

"-what exactly do you have to gain from this?"

"Other than the knowledge you'll be getting some and Steve will be surrounded by tech he doesn't understand?" Tony took a small sip from his drink, eyes flickering to the side. "I don't know if you've noticed, but Loki has been pretty stalker-ish lately. I'm not up for Fury's idea of protection, but I wouldn't deny a gang of superheroes at my beck and call." Clint raised an eyebrow.

"You're worried."

"Cautious. I don't do 'worried'." He took another sip- this one larger to swallow every last drop, and then nodded at the bartender for another. "But my pants would be on fire if I said Loki's sudden weirdness were the core of this little offer. I've actually been setting up rooms- well, floors actually- for a while now." Clint was doing that scanning thing again.

"You've been thinking about this for a while?"

"Months. Pepper thought it was stupid, but she doesn't have as much of a say anymore."

"She move out?"

"Yeah. Renovations really picked up after that." And he wouldn't really say he were lonely, but he might admit that he missed a bit of human interaction. Pepper had always been someone he could talk to. She was smart enough that their conversations could hold his interest. Hell, the closest thing he'd had to their talks since their break-up was-

Well, shit, ignore that train of thought.

"Your lack of interest in making the first move with Agent Romanov seemed like the perfect entrance. So what do you say? Wanna make Fury's day and say you convinced me?" Clint tapped his head to the side.

"You're rich."

"I'm certainly not poor."

"What kinda rooms are we looking at?" Tony grinned, and immediately jumped into exploring every facet of the rooms. From the giant televisions, to the gym, to the fully-stocked ("Well, it'll be fully stocked once you move in") kitchens, to the archery range. He and Clint were so engaged that the assassin forgot to scan the room.

As a result, neither man noticed the guest until she spoke.

"Mr. Stark?" Tony jolted slightly, and twisted to look at the newcomer.

"Oh, hello," he greeted with a broad smile (much faker than the one he'd been wearing seconds before, but who really cared?). "It's lovely to see you again."

"Have we met?" She asked him with a small smile. He chuckled.

"Guess not. Sorry. You looked familiar." It was a lie, technically. He just hadn't wanted to insult an old one-night-stand. But now that he had a good look at her, there _was_ something déjà vu-y about those features. Something distant, but it certainly rang a bell.

It seemed to do the same to Clint, because his eyes were narrowed and his shoulders squared.

"I wanted to know if you'd like to dance." She elaborated at the silence. Tony grinned again (a bit more real this time, because there was something about her, a puzzle he hadn't quite worked out, and he _did_ love puzzles), and made to move forward. A hand immediately slapped against his chest, effectively stopping him mid-step. Tony glanced at him quizzically.

"Did you want one first, sweetheart?"

"What's your name?" Clint demanded, suddenly in no mood for humor. His palm remained flat against Tony's chest, just below the reactor. It wasn't painful by any stretch of the imagination, but it was firm enough that Tony didn't move against it.

"Aria." She answered, face contorting into something akin to confusion. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothings wrong- Aria, right? Cool name." Tony gave Clint a pointed look, but the archer still seemed suspicious.

"I'm sorry, _Aria_, but Mr. Stark is busy." He practically growled.

"Um, I'm really not. We can discuss your living arrangements later." He plucked the hand off of his shirt. Clint allowed him to do so, though he seemed to be fighting off the urge to just knock Tony out and drag him away."So, do you waltz? I personally don't." Aria smiled at him, green eyes shining with amusement.

As she and Tony stepped into the crowd, she sent a glance over her bare shoulder. Clint continued to glare from the bar, finger tapping against his thigh. He was aching for a bow (he'd only been allowed a gun for Stark Duty; arrows at dinner parties tended to warrant unwanted attention).

* * *

"If we haven't met, mind my asking why? The guest list tends to stay pretty much the same for these things, and I _doubt_ I'd miss you."

"Are you suspicious as well?" She asked, her tone light. He grinned down at her (she was actually a few centimeters shorter than him- a welcome change. He was not a tall man).

"Is there something I'm supposed to be suspicious of?"

"I don't usually go to these types of parties," she answered (his first question). "They're more trouble than they're worth." Her eyes flickered to him. "Usually."

"I know it," he told her, the honesty bogged down by the fake grin. "This hasn't been something I've looked forward to for a while. I'm more into saving the world, these days."

"Ah, yes." That smile was back, easy and beautiful and _so fucking familiar_. "I saw you on the news the other day. You almost died."

"That tends to happen."

"How much longer do you think you'll survive?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Well, that was ominous." Her brows crinkled.

"Was that too forward?"

"I appreciate bluntness," he assured her, though he had already mentally cataloged her as 'crazy'. He wouldn't be calling her back.

"Then the answer?" Stubborn, but he could appreciate that, too.

"I dunno. I'm crossing my fingers for at least another few months. I've been looking forward to the Hobbit since I was three."

"The Hobbit."

"If you haven't heard of the Hobbit, you're from another planet. Please tell me you're not an alien."

"Do you really want me to lie?" She teased, and he chuckled.

"You should read the book before you see it." As if any of the girls at these things read. Although this one- Aria- really did seem different. He wasn't sure whether it were a good different or a bad different, to be honest, weird danger-kink aside.

"I'll trust your taste. What's it about?"

"Dwarves." It slipped from his tongue easily, and he felt a cold jolt twist up his spine as he recalled the meeting from just fifteen hours earlier.

"Dwarves?" She seemed equally unnerved. His weird response must have shown.

"Sorry, it's nothing. But, yeah, dwarves. And hobbits, obviously."

"I've never heard of a hobbit."

"That's because you haven't read the book. Get on that. How long is this song?"

"Are you so eager to depart?" What was up with her diction?

"Nah. Unless you're already ready to leave this party? If you're not enjoying it, I mean, no use in us sticking around." Her eyebrows rose.

"I had been under the impression that you would be harder to court." _Court_?

"Nope. Pretty easy. So?" A flicker of a smile ran across her face, something that sang of inside jokes and amusement.

"After you." Tony's grin grew slightly, even as something like guilt churned in his stomach. Aria was the first person he'd sleep with since Pep. It was a victory mixed with something bittersweet that tasted of defeat. He'd wanted something serious, for once. He wanted someone with whom he could converse, someone who would understand. Aria was obviously interested in little more than sex (and he really wasn't complaining, because she just as obviously spent her time in Crazy-ville), and represented a descent back into schmoozing that he'd hoped not to return to after Afghanistan.

"I'm pretty sure girls go first," he answered, leading the way anyway. She was smiling again, that kooky grin that said she was hiding something. It probably would have disconcerted him if there weren't attractive dimples lighting up as a result.

"Tony." He spun, brows furrowing as he recognized Clint.

"Dude, don't cockblock."

"We have to go. Fury called us."

"Can it wait-" He glanced back at Aria. "-fifteen minutes?" Clint made a face of exaggerated disgust.

"More quantity than quality then, huh? And no, it can't. Say goodbye to your little girlfriend. Hogan is waiting outside." Tony scowled, but nodded dutifully. He turned to Aria, who looked equally put-out.

"Sorry, but duty calls. I'll try not to die." She smiled slightly.

"Thank you. I look forward to our next meeting." Right. _That_ was likely.

"Ditto. See ya." He trailed after Clint, who routinely glanced back to make sure he wasn't straying. Other than a grab for the tray of champagne, he was a good follower.

As they ducked into the car, Tony turned his drunken gaze to the archer.

"Okay, so what's Fury want?"

"He didn't call." Happy was already pulling off the curb, but Tony made a move towards the door anyway.

"This is kidnapping." He grumbled, when it became clear he wouldn't escape the confines of the limo. "This is a kidnapping, and I demand to call my lawyer."

"You were drunk and hitting on an unidentified chick. We couldn't get a facial recognition, Stark."

"_She_ was hitting on _me_." Tony said with a scowl, crossing his arms.

"Have you ever seen her before?"

"No."

"And she didn't give any negative vibes off to you?" Tony didn't answer, too annoyed to answer truthfully. Because, yeah, she'd seemed insane. And familiar. But she'd also been incredibly hot. And his house was so _empty_. "Exactly. I'm thinking..." Clint trailed off, gaze drifting to the window.

"Barton?" Tony prodded, more curious than angry now. He could, technically, get a hot chick whenever he wanted one.

"I'm thinking it was Loki. She was probably being coerced somehow to get you." Tony shook his head.

"Thor said, without the tesser-"

"I said 'coerced', not mind-controlled. I had a few agents go to pick her up."

"A few agents?" Tony repeated, anger thumming irrationally in his chest. He was Iron Man. He shouldn't need people watching after him. He _didn't_ need people watching after him. He could handle it. He'd been fine with Loki the night before, hadn't he? He was still alive. "I said 'no' to protection, Barton." Clint sent him an annoyed glance.

"Yeah, and then you almost ran off with a stranger."

"It's what I do."

"Then it's time to change up the game. Until we get Loki in custody, you're going to have to act with some semblance of logic, and accept SHIELD's protective services."

"Since when are you Mr. Maturity?"

"Since you decided to be Mr. Immaturity." Clint replied, before adding, "Okay, so since you _upped_ the immaturity."

"Cute." Tony grunted, crossing his arms.

"It's for your own safety," Clint added after a moment, sensing Tony's sincere anger. There wasn't much that really wound the engineer up, but this was definitely doing the job.

"Oh, good. Glad you know what's best for me."

"Stark."

"What, I upset your delicate sensibilities?" Tony snapped, finally letting his eyes flicker onto the archer. Clint had gone still, eyes low.

"It's Loki, Tony." And, just like that, Tony deflated. And fuck, he was such an asshole. Too caught up with his own shit to realize what was happening to others (just like always, he was too self-obsessed).

"Right. Shit, Clint, sorry." But he wasn't going to let the sore spot dictate his life. "I'll be the epitome of responsibility. Call off the SHIELD drones you've sicced on me, though." Clint frowned at him, nodding a little.

"I'll see what I can do. I doubt Fury will be too understanding after this."

"I'll make him understand," Tony assured him, leaning back in the seat of his limo. He was still reasonably buzzed, and he didn't have to stay at the party. _And_ he had an excuse he could get the Director of SHIELD to sign. Pepper couldn't fault him for following orders, could she? So, good outcome.

And he wasn't dead.

Although, if Loki wanted him dead, why'd he send some actress to 'seduce' him ('seduce' because there really wasn't much seducing required)? Maybe it would be a package deal. You get to rule the world, and have an incredibly attractive (though batshit insane) queen. If that were the case, Loki had probably spent too much time reading those gossip rags. Pepper used to rip pages from the worst and leave them in a pile on his desk. It was her way of saying, 'Can you believe the things they make up?', while getting the unfortunate question of, 'You didn't actually do any of this, right?' out there. He might be willing to shag anything, but he did have a set of (questionable) personal ethics.

"Yo, Stark, that offer still stand, or am I on the shit list?" It didn't take a genius to figure out what Clint was talking about, but Tony held onto his high IQ anyway.

"You've always been on the shit list, Barton. Pack your bags, and tell Fury Daddy Warbucks will front the bill for the moving vans."

* * *

Alright. Not much interaction between Tony and Loki here, and for that I apologize. This chapter was mainly setting stuff up. But I did finally get to throw in Loki as a shape-shifting stalker. I originally (way back when) wrote a chapter where Tony went to a bar to relax and met up with some crazy green-eyed lady. But it got too angsty, so I canned it. In other words, just glad to have Loki sneaking around.

Thanks to everyone that has sent reviews/favs/follows my way.


	9. Chapter 9

This story is officially longer than my other one. Which isn't really saying much, since that one is 3 chapters long and unfinished (sorry about that; I'll probably continue working on it at some point), but I'm still glad to finally surpass it in terms of length.

This chapter has more Loki/Tony with some stuff setting up for the future. I'm starting to worry that Tony is gonna turn evil.

* * *

-Chapter 9-

A week passed. Fury ranted about Aria, who had somehow managed to slip past the SHIELD agents, Clint seemed to be in a happier mood, and Tony slept lightly, expecting the shadows themselves to leap out at him.

He was almost getting relaxed in his own skin, focusing on work (actual CEO work more than superhero work) when Fury called.

"What's up?" He asked, not glancing up from the contract. He trusted Pepper, of course, but he always liked to skim through the papers he signed to get the gist. Ever since Obie, he liked to make sure he understood exactly what his company was up to.

"Barton spoke to me this morning."

"Oh, good, he got over his shyness." Tony replied distantly, still not paying too much attention. Sometimes having no sleep wasn't conducive to reading legalese. How can something be no less than three if it exceeds six?

"About living arrangements." His brain fired at that, sending him reminders that, yes, he'd invited Clint and the whole motley crew to his tower.

"When should I stop by for his stuff?" He asked, scrawling a messy signature at the bottom of the paper, his initial a few lines below, and then flipping to the next page.

"Stark, he needs my approval, and I'm not sure I want to give it." His eyes flickered up at that, annoyance tickling at his brain.

"I'll only spoil him a little."

"I need a reason."

"Isn't getting him and Romanoff near my technology enough of a reason?" Fury's eye narrowed.

"I want your reason."

"That's obvious, too."

"Has Loki contacted you?" And the real reason for the call bares its head.

"If he had, I think I might have dropped you a line."

"And Potts?" His engine stuck a little, sputtering.

"Uh, yeah. We talked a few days ago. Do you want her number or something? Because I am hereby giving you the 'if-you-hurt-her' speech. I can use a shotgun. Not well, yeah, but I could probably pay Clint to teach me, or even give Dummy some lessons." The robot in question gave a few excited beeps, and Tony figured that was probably a 'yes'.

"Your health?"

"Impeccable." Which was a bit of an exaggeration, because he was exhausted and hadn't eaten since Pepper had forced a hamburger (admittedly delicious) on him.

"The tower?"

"Enough rooms for them, Fury. And honestly, I don't think I care about your approval, anyway. I'm very rebellious and mysterious that way. Just send Clint over."

"He should be arriving in a few minutes." Tony blinked, then frowned down at himself. Oil-drenched jeans and a ratty t-shirt. He'd been working on the suit for the past twelve hours, and had only recently resigned himself to paperwork.

"I'm not dressed-!" He said, more to himself than Fury, as he leapt to his feet. He'd been hoping to wear a perfectly-tailored suit while he gave the tour. Not that he was vain or anything (impossible!), but he'd wanted the team's first impression of the tower to be positive.

"I'm sure Barton loves you for your personality," Fury assured him dryly. "I suggest you meet him downstairs, or he'll use the vents."

"Jarvis wouldn't let him," Tony answered confidently, but he swept towards the elevator anyway. "Tell me when you want to book a room, Fury." With that, he cut the connection, and waited as he was brought to the lobby.

Clint was almost unrecognizable. It wasn't often that Tony saw him in civilian clothes, and he'd chosen to wear the most casual outfit imaginable. It made Tony feel a little better about his own clothes. For all of two seconds.

"BP have another spill?" Tony rolled his eyes.

"What's on me isn't in a dolphin's lungs, so you're welcome." He gestured at the duffel bag. "Is the rest on its way?" Clint grinned.

"This is it. I'm ready to be wooed by your lavish lifestyle."

"Then let the wooing begin," Tony agreed amiably, leading him towards the elevator. "I've got your pass-codes and access cards upstairs, and then we'll head to your floor."

"My floor." Clint repeated with a devilish grin. "I so like the sound of that."

"So, have you passed the idea down the line to the rest of them?" Clint nodded.

"It took a little convincing for Rogers-" Tony snorted. "-but everyone is onboard. Thor seemed really eager, actually, considering how he's always wanting to stay in New Mexico."

"I've got an extra room on his for Jane, anyway. When will they be by?" Clint shrugged.

"I know Nat will be here tomorrow morning, but beyond that, no clue." Tony nodded, humming to himself in consideration.

As the elevator came to a stop on Tony's floor, Clint froze. Tony, who'd already begun making his way to the table, turned with a raised eyebrow.

"Um, is this another spy thing?" Clint was instantly at his side, his stance defensive. "Clint?"

"Something's up." Tony glanced around, but his living room simply blinked back.

"If you say so." Clint relaxed slightly, though his shoulders were still bared.

"It's gone."

"Okay." Clint turned, frowning.

"You didn't feel that?" Tony shrugged, walking towards his original destination to grab the cards. "It was cold." _Ah_.

"No, sorry," he said, picking up the packet. "There've been cold spots a lot lately. I blame Jarvis, but he maintains he's innocent."

"As I am, sir," The AI piped in, and Tony sent a smirk to the camera in the corner of the room.

"I'm a proponent of 'innocent until proven guilty', so I'll wait until the thermostat catches him messing with it. But your floor shouldn't have any, since it churns out a separate temperature. If they do show up, just call the landlord. I just haven't cared that much, so I haven't tried fixing it." Clint was still stiff as a nail, inspecting the room with calculating eyes. "Barton?" The archer blinked, glancing at him almost warily.

"Sorry. It just felt- um, never mind. So, pass-codes?"

"Ready to be calibrated to associate with your fingerprints and retinas. If you'd be so kind as to look at this wall for a second, we can set you up in ten minutes."

Barton, predictably, loved his floor. He gushed about it for a total of five minutes before demanding order-in pizza. They spent the evening in his section of the tower, and the agent took great delight in leaving his feet on the coffee table. It made Tony wonder how long he'd been staying in the stale stalls SHIELD laughingly called rooms, and he felt an unfamiliar surge of pride to be the cause of such happiness.

The following morning wasn't quite as rewarding (Natasha almost looked nauseas when she saw all the _stuff_ he'd put in her homestead), but Clint had told him later he'd never seen her so blindsided (in a good way).

He didn't say a word when they were nowhere to be found later that day.

* * *

Rogers arrived the day after Natasha, duffel bag and suitcase looking awkwardly small in his goliath hands.

"You really don't have to do this," he said, though his eyes traced the ceiling of the lobby with something akin to awe.

"It's my pleasure," Tony only half-lied. "You ready to see the rest?" Rogers blinked down from the cavernous ceiling.

"Oh, definitely," he said with a broad grin. "Clint said he really liked the room you gave him. I hope this isn't too much stuff-?" Tony choked back a laugh, and just shook his head.

"I think it'll fit." As they entered the elevator, Rogers shifted.

"So, any word on Loki?"

"Not since his minion tried getting in my pants last week. Why? Fury find something?" Steve started, brows furrowed a little.

"Of course not. We would have let you know."

"Yeah," Tony agreed half-heartedly, well-aware that Fury tended to conceal things if he thought it would benefit him in the long-run. Recently, he'd decided that that wasn't the most terrible thing the one-eyed spy could do. That didn't change the fact that he resented not being in the loop. "Okay, we just have to grab some stuff and set you up, and then I'll show you to your room." Steve nodded cooperatively, following Tony into his living room.

"This is very nice," he said politely.

"Is it?" Tony asked with some surprise as he looked around for the papers. "I tried downplaying it with your area, but if you're more into this style, I can-"

"No, no, it's fine," Steve quickly assured him. "I'm sure whatever you've done is fine." Tony smirked at him a little. Rogers got on his nerves sometimes (read: most of the time) because he was just too damn nice. How could a person be so perf-

Okay, so he was still a little brainwashed. Howard had never been secretive about his admiration for Captain America. And seeing him in real life was just not fun. It was just _impossible_ that anyone could be as pure as he seemed. But they were far enough into this Avengers thing that Tony could- with great confidence- admit that Rogers wasn't hiding a dark and insidious soul beneath a veneer of 1940s innocent charm. He was just a genuinely good guy.

And that annoyed Tony immensely.

And whether that were because he was just annoyed by holier-than-thou folk or because he recognized it as something he could never be, well. He tried to ignore that question.

"This is your ID card. You can use it to get into pretty much any level in the tower, although the only ones you'll really care about are the top ten. Those are the ones I've reserved for Avengers stuff. The rest is standard SI business." He held up the next card. "This is a credit card, which I'm sure someone has explained to you. I did happen to peek at your bank account and notice Fury isn't paying you enough, so you've got some extra spending money on here in case you want to, I dunno, paint the town red. Do you say that?" Steve's mouth was a little 'o' of surprise, and Tony shook off the question. "Whatever. Nowadays we call it a bender, and this'll get you the finest hookers and alcohol a celebrity in a downward spiral can afford. Next are passcodes. These might get a little confusing, and you can ask Jarvis for help. You remember Jarvis?"

"Hello, sir." Steve only jolted a little, and Tony tried to quell the disappointment.

"From your suit?" He asked, and Tony nodded.

"He's pretty much built into the tower, so you can ask him for help no matter where you are, even the maintenance closet in the basement. The passcodes are used along with the ID card for high-security areas like the Avengers levels and my lab. Similarly, I'm gonna need your fingerprints on my database and a quick retina scan. It'll take, like, five seconds, so just- here, take this tablet- put your thumb, yeah, right there, and your index- yep, you've got it. I see Fury put you through all this. Probably while you were still shaking off ice cubes."

Steve frowned at him disapprovingly as he went through the tasks, and Tony tried to ignore the glee he felt at the annoyance. He wasn't supposed to like being an asshole. He usually hated that he was. But around the Captain, it was all so easy and so gratifying.

"I have some paperwork you've gotta fill out- I hate it, too, don't worry- but you can handle that in your room. So, shall we?" Steve handed the tablet back with exaggerated care (suggesting he'd been less careful in the past), and Tony discarded it on the table as he swept back towards the elevator.

"Now, remember, you're floor 69." If Steve understood the crass reason he'd been given the floor, it didn't show. He just nodded and pressed the button. "Now, Jarvis, pretend Daddy isn't here." Steve looked momentarily confused, but Jarvis (bless him) understood instantly.

"Excuse me, sir, but the floor you have requested access to requires the presentation of a valid ID card." Steve glanced at Tony, who simply nodded impatiently at the small slit above a keyboard.

Steve ran the card with a furrowed brow that suggested diligent practice, and a small light glowed green.

"Please enter the 7-digit passcode." Steve glanced down at the paper Tony had handed him, and awkwardly tapped in the numbers. "Are you Steve Rogers?"

"Um, yes." Steve paused a millisecond. "Sir."

"Please direct your gaze toward the retinal scanner." It took a few looks to locate the thin black panel, and when Steve finally situated himself in front of it, he looked amusingly uneasy.

"Identity confirmed and recorded. Welcome to Floor 69, Captain Rogers."

"Captain?" Steve asked as the doors opened, glancing sideways at Tony. The engineer shrugged.

"He knows who you are, Cap. But from now on, you don't have to wait for him to tell you what to do. And the fingerprints are only needed if the retinal scanner is screwed up." Steve nodded.

"And he's everywhere."

"What can I say? He likes watching people while they sleep. So, do you like it?" Steve glanced around at the living room he'd entered. It was comfortably sparse, without all of the modern accessories that had made up Tony's floor. In fact, other than the huge windows and flat-screen TV, it almost seemed ageless.

"It's very nice," he said sincerely. "Where's my room?" Tony nodded and led the way. He watched Steve's face as he entered, and couldn't help the flurry of pride at the expression. He definitely got happiness from making that face screw up in annoyance, but making it beam felt just as nice. "Wow."

"Yeah?" Tony asked with a small grin. It was a little too real, but Steve wasn't looking at him anyway. He was running his hand along the smooth headboard of the bed, as his eyes traced over every aspect of the large bedroom. Tony had made sure that it didn't feel too overwhelmingly 2012-y, but had also taken care that it didn't exactly resemble the 40s.

Being reminded of what you don't have is never nice.

So he'd just designed a comfortable, quiet space that resembled a library more than a movie theater (i.e, Clint's room) with a TV tucked away behind a pair of mahogany cabinet doors. He doubted the soldier would ever use it, but it was there if he changed his mind.

"This is amazing, Tony." Steve managed, eying with visible surprise (and pleasure) the many art supplies Tony had left in the corner. He turned. "Are you on this floor, too?" Tony couldn't resist the smirk. "What?"

"Nah. This is all you, Cap." Surprise, again, mingled with confusion.

After ten minutes of 'yes, it really is all yours, no, I don't care if it's too big, no, I don't care that this is 'too much', no, I really have no interest in engaging in a man-hug of Thor proportions', Tony managed to escape.

At first, it had been nice. But seeing the unbridled gratitude had eventually left him feeling sick. Which was immensely stupid. Impossibly dumb.

But, fuck, he'd never proclaimed to be a person who reacted to things properly.

Or maybe it was just that Steve had said, eyes low and voice soft as if he were telling a personal secret, 'Howard raised a really good man.'

Because he was, in fact, not the drama queen the entire world thought he was, Tony had simply nodded with a grin he thought looked sincere, and said, 'As if I don't know. Wanna check out the blender?' After introducing the Captain to protein shakes, he'd managed to flee.

* * *

The quiet before the storm actually lasted an entire month. Tony thought it was going well. Everyone had showered him with gratitude for a few days, and then actually settled in. He figured it was like what having five siblings would have been like. Constant bickering, lots of teasing, and a battle or two for New York.

It was nice being able to relax somewhere as a group after an uncomfortable few hours of fighting slime monsters.

So, yes, for a while, it was great. Uncomfortable with Steve's geniality, Tony had made fun of him until the status quo returned to what it had been. They'd argued a few times, but it had usually ended with one of them (okay, always Tony) storming out (after giving a perfectly logical excuse for leaving).

Steve had tried to apologize after the first lover's quarrel, but Tony waved him off.

"Just because I'm the landlord doesn't mean you have to stay on my good side," he assured him. "I'm a dick, but I wouldn't kick you out just because I'm feeling asshole-ish. It'd be too much paperwork." Granted, he'd only said so because he was too tired to re-hash the issue, but it was true. He wasn't about to kick out Captain goddamn America.

"It's not about the floor," Steve had replied, brows crinkling again in that annoyed way that made Tony inwardly chuckle. He was just so sincerely affronted. "I was out of line." Tony laughed aloud at that.

"I'm really not gonna kick you out," he assured him breezily, walking past him before the super soldier could speak again. "Now go play with your hoop and stick. Barton's bow got sucked into that thing from Tuesday, and I've got to go build one impervious to acidic slime."

So, yes, there was tension. For the last week of the month, it boiled uncomfortably close to the surface, but was never out of control.

Until Tony decided to have a night in, free from socialites and superheroes. Predictably, Rogers, in a well-intentioned attempt at friendship, had entered.

And then the next hour was devoured by the most intense argument Tony had ever been in. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the dislike that had festered like an infected wound, maybe it was that Steve was bringing up Howard like an angel to Tony's demon, and maybe it was that it was a childhood idol spouting the vitriol.

Whatever the reason, Tony's jokes fizzled into sincere insults. Steve seemed to notice the change, and his own arguments were colder and harsher than any before. It ended with multiple curses, with Tony defiling the name of a long-dead father (and a long-gone era), and Steve storming out (for once) while Tony leaned heavily against the counter.

He poured himself a tall glass of scotch and downed half of it. He ached for the burn of cheaper liquor, and had almost made the decision to fetch some himself when his brooding was interrupted.

"Do you dislike your father?" Tony jolted in surprise, and the scotch in his hand nearly spilled in response. His mind caught up to the question, and he instantly replied,

"No, he was great. I just like messing with Cap." Loki's smile was small.

"Your lies are far more translucent when you have consumed alcohol." Tony furrowed his brows in annoyance. _That's not true._

"I'm not lying."

"See?" Loki drawled. "Perfectly pellucid." He approached the bar, and ignored the way Tony stiffened at the lessening distance. "I see you have admitted the Avengers into your home."

"Yeah, it's front-page news," Tony replied irritably, eyes flickering upwards. Was Jarvis gone? If he shouted, he could probably get the others. What had he told Clint? Superheroes at his beck and call?

Although Cap would probably sit this one out. If he came, he'd just be cheering for Loki to knock Tony's head off.

If the demi-god hadn't already for calling them.

"What are you doing here?" Loki glanced up at him, and gave a mild shrug.

"I heard shouts of anger. Have you so soon fallen from your 'honeymoon phase'?"

"Cap and I never had that," Tony answered, resigning himself to pouring a second glass. "-and how'd you hear the 'shouts of anger'? Don't say you were just 'in the neighborhood', because that's such utter crap and after being fed Rogers' bullshit, I don't think I can stomach it." He handed the glass to Loki, who took it with a small nod of gratitude.

"I was interested in seeing how the Avengers were faring in this new environment." His smile grew. "And I must say, it amused me greatly to know there is already friction. Do you believe he'll stay?" Tony blinked at the question.

"Cap? Of course he will. Don't get your hopes up for me to drive him off. He's too good to let petty stuff like this faze him." The demi-god's eyes flashed.

"Too good? Is there possibly such a thing?" Tony rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean." A pause for a sip. "But yeah, he does kinda layer it on. He comes from a more sincere time. He woke up to sarcasm and cynicism, and instead of changing, he decided he was just going to be sanctimonious to every Average Joe that just happens to be an asshole."

"The others don't seem to be affected." Tony frowned as he noticed where the conversation had gone. He had already been drinking before Steve had entered, and now he was just bad-mouthing his teammate to a guy that manipulated for his bread and butter. He was officially a ridiculous human being. Maybe he should finally heed Pepper's millions of complaints and dump the drinking.

"Yep, neat, huh?" He promptly put down the glass, and stalked to the couch. "How much longer are you gonna be here? I do have stuff to do." Loki seemed amused as he replicated the movement, sitting directly opposite Tony.

"My apologies for delaying you." But he didn't seem sorry enough to leave. Tony considered his options. He could call for help. The pros were obvious: he'd have help. The cons: it would infuriate Loki and most likely drive him to do something on impulse. Like maim or decapitate Tony.

Tony enjoyed using his brain, so he decided to put a pin in that plan and move on. He could try to leave. He doubted Loki would let him, though, and then it'd be painfully obvious who had the power in the situation. He could just talk. The cons: Loki would try to manipulate him, try to mess with his head. The pros: he'd finally be able to satiate that damn curiosity (and have a distraction).

And, besides, talking to Loki wasn't all that bad. Off-putting, definitely, a constant source of stress and fear, sure. But it was also interesting.

And he _did_ like interesting.

Only a few seconds had passed since Loki's comment, so it wasn't completely out of the blue when Tony said:

"Somehow, I doubt your sincerity." Loki smiled.

"A mistake on your part, I assure you." Tony glanced out of the window. A messy sunset frowned at him past the skyline, and he distantly wondered what time it was.

"So will you be staying until you're bored again?" Loki nodded, and, with an amused smirk, added,

"Or until you say something of such worth that I must leave and process it." Tony gave him a slim grin.

"Okay, lemme rack my brain for something transcendental." He leaned forward, tapping his knee unconsciously with a nervous finger. "Let's start off with that chick you sicced on me." Loki had the gall to look innocent.

"I'm afraid you must explain." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Well, I'm not gonna, so strain that infamous brain. Why were you even trying to get her to sleep with me? Was it, like, to get me on the side of evil? Because, believe it or not, I can get laid on my own. I'm very charming." Loki's eyes were amused.

"I would never imply otherwise."

"And yet you kinda did." Tony replied with the same level of finality, leaning back and crossing his arms. "My ego is offended."

"You did seem to follow with great interest." Tony waved off the (completely true) observation.

"It wasn't anything personal. I just hadn't gone to a party for a while, and, due to some recent changes, haven't gotten some for a bit. I didn't need help with that, mind you, I was just taking my time wading back into the lady pool."

" 'Lady pool'." Loki repeated.

"Y'know, the pool full of women willing- and eager- to sleep with me."

"I suppose I had imagined your 'pool' would be more diverse." Tony raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"What, like animals? Just because you're into something doesn't me-" Loki silenced him with a tired wave. Tony only quieted because he was genuinely puzzled.

"Men, Stark. It is not unheard of for those from Asgard to enjoy the company of both genders." Maybe it was because of the conversation with Steve, or the fact that he was drunk, or maybe just that his arch-nemesis was actually asking whether he were _gay_ after sending some chick to seduce him (maybe he thought it would work better with a guy?), but Tony thought of his father.

Dear old dad.

And he just brushed the question and the resulting guilt he felt like he brushed away lots of other things, and leered.

"Why, you interested, sweetheart?" Loki's unimpressed look suggested he understood sarcasm far better than his brother.

"Only in honesty, Stark, which you don't seem to have much of tonight."

"Says the God of Lies."

"Your deflections are poor when you're inebriated."

"Or maybe I'm just sick of talking. You remember I wasn't the one who initiated this little chat? Somehow I highly doubt you showed up to talk about my sex life, so how about you just say what you came to say?" Loki paused, considering.

"What would it take to convince you that your Avengers aren't making a great enough change as they should?" Tony scowled. _This again?_

"More than you could ever do. That it?" Loki didn't look amused anymore.

"Hardly. I should also like to know of your father."

"Irrelevant and none of your business. Next?"

"He was a bad man, was he not?" Tony's heart was pounding, his hands fists. He'd just dealt with the opposite of this, and now he was forced to defend the man. So much for a distraction. Christ, how was this his life? Was there a reset button? Could he just redo it?

"No, he really wasn't. He was a great man. You convinced? Good. Because you stay a minute longer and I'm screaming bloody murder, regardless of how much Barton will make fun of me later." Loki didn't move, and Tony's brows furrowed as he leaned forward. "My shriek is extremely girlish."

And how was that a threat?

Apparently, it was an effective one. Loki stood, cloak swirling behind him in an intimidating way that reminded Tony of shadows. He frowned down at the rug beneath his feet, shaking his head.

"It is rarely my intention to rile you so, and yet, it seems, I am unable to do anything else." Tony snorted.

"Please. You get off on pressing buttons. If I ever said I'd join you, you'd put a whoopie cushion on the throne and then blow me up." Loki's head snapped up.

"You believe I would betray you?" Tony let out a shaky laugh, somehow feeling as if he'd expressed something he hadn't meant to.

"It's what you do." _And it's what people do to me. We'd be the perfect pair, really_. Loki shook his head.

"If you joined me, Stark, you would receive what I have promised. Freedom and power."

"I have that now." They weren't negotiating, were they? Tony focused on his hands. He wouldn't be the bad guy. Never again.

"What you have now cannot be compared to what you would have." Loki was suddenly directly in front of him, hand outstretched as if it wanted to rest on Tony's shoulder. When Tony tensed, Loki seemed to reconsider, and his arm drifted back to his side. "And you need never fear harm at my hands were you to join me."

"Then I guess I'll keep fearing harm," Tony told him firmly, standing. "And since you've answered about as many questions as I have, I say we consider this conversation a bust and move on." Loki frowned.

"This is a foolish course of action, Stark. I meant to give you an opportunity before our next conflict." Tony's eyes flashed.

"Do we have a conflict coming up?" Loki tapped his head forward slightly. "I forgot to pen it into my calender. Mind refreshing my memory?"

"Be prepared, Stark. I would not destroy you with pleasure." It actually sounded sincere, which was just...well, _odd_.

"You could just _not_ destroy me." The demi-god smiled. It was a chilling expression, at odds with the features that bore it in that it was horrifically honest.

"If the opportunity to spare you is given, Stark, I swear that I shall take it. But I fear you are far too stubborn to deny a fight when it is taken upon your realm. I will do my best to distract you."

"Uh-" Before he could even figure out what to say to something like that, Loki was gone.

* * *

And there's another 5,000+ word chapter. See? You asked for longer chapters, and I gave them to you. What do you want next?

Also, how did my fluffy Loki-has-a-crush-on-Tony-lol drabble-ish story turn into this thing?


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry (again) for the wait. I've actually had this a few sentences from finished for a few days, but was too busy (or lazy; either works) to just get it done. But now we're officially in the double digits, which is just so exciting.

* * *

-Chapter 10-

Tony didn't really remember finding his bed the night before, but when he woke, it was tangled in sheets with a pounding headache.

"Tony?" And there to add to the Hell that is his life: an abashed looking Steve Rogers.

"Hey, Cap." He grunted, ignoring the blood that rushed to his head as he sat up. His vision was speckled with unpleasant black spots, but he still managed a convincing grin. "Spying on little old me?"

"I wanted to apologize." Steve said firmly. "And I wanted to do it before you were conscious enough to try and avoid me."

"Ah." Tony swept his feet out of the bed, and relished the feeling of the rug beneath his toes. "Alright. Well, I'm plenty conscious, so save it. No need anyway. We were both assholes. We can skip the hug, right?"

"What happened to you last night?" Steve asked, apparently agreeing with Tony's assessment. "You were barely conscious when I went back to apologize." His eyes narrowed. "You mentioned Loki."

"You brought me here." Tony accused suddenly, comprehension flooding his mind even though the memories stayed at bay. He'd continued to drink after Loki disappeared (ignoring common sense), and had eventually gotten into a comfortable numbness. Everything after that was a blur, so of course he hadn't dragged himself to bed. He groaned a little. "I didn't do anything embarrassing, did I? I'm a touchy drunk, so if I touched you, _definitely_ not personal."

"Tony, you said something about Loki," Steve pressed, but the engineer had already latched onto the next thought.

"Jesus, how long were you watching me sleep?" He stood, and stumbled to the bathroom. "Christ, I need caffeine."

"Tony." He turned finally, squaring his jaw.

"Are you asking if Loki was my drinking buddy last night, Rogers? Is that seriously your little query?" To his credit, Steve wasn't deterred by the phrasing.

"I'm asking if something new happened with Loki." And okay, back to options. Explain that, yes, Loki had popped in for a chat. Had tried to manipulate him some more. But what would that really accomplish? He'd gotten nothing concrete other than a promise of future trouble (and honestly, who didn't know that that was coming?), and the rest of it had just been emotional crap. And an attempt at bribing. Other option? Keep quiet because it didn't matter and he had a hangover and really didn't want to deal with this and especially not with Steve fucking Rogers.

"No, Steve. Loki and I didn't drink into the wee hours of morning. You and I had our fun chat, I beat up my liver for a few hours, and then you took me to bed. Without my permission. _And watched me sleep_. Satisfied?" The super-soldier looked anything but, but he still gave a slight nod.

"Sure." Toothbrush dangling from the side of his mouth, Tony peeked past the bathroom doorway to frown at the captain. Then he gave a slight shrug, because who cared if he was moping/suspicious? It wasn't his problem when he had a headache this bad. He spat then rinsed his mouth out.

"I'm going down to the lab. Let Bruce know I'm gonna blow stuff up if he wants to join me." He downed a few pills and slurped tap water from cupped hands before brushing past his stalker.

* * *

"Is everything okay?" Tony glanced to his right, raising an eyebrow.

"Spectacular. Why do you ask?" Bruce had an unreadable expression on his face as he shrugged.

"You seem-"

"Hungover?" Tony grinned. "Yeah, because I am. Pass me the lead azide." Bruce dutifully handed him the vial of powder, but continued,

"Steve seemed irritable this morning." Tony snorted.

"When hasn't he got his panties in a twist? Copper." Bruce rolled his eyes, leaving his computer screen again to pass the substance.

"Isn't this what Dummy is for?"

"Oh, Bruce, you know I love the way you hand me things." Bruce quirked a brow, smirking slightly. Tony focused on measuring the copper. He didn't bother mentioning that he wasn't usually such a fan of being handed things. Bruce didn't need to know. "Besides, it's not as if whatever you're doing is more important than explosions."

"It's a project for Fury," Bruce answered the implied question. "Gamma-related. Not so big on the explosions, I'll admit. So what's the deal with Steve?" Tony shrugged.

"Hell if I know. It's not like I follow him around. He does, by the way," he added, sending Bruce a meaningful look. "Watched me sleep." Bruce raised an eyebrow, but didn't seem surprised.

"He was worried about you."

"Little old me?" Tony asked, mouth an exaggerated 'o'.

"After last night," Bruce supplied. "I guess you two went at it bad, because he was still in the gym when I got back around three."

"You night owl," Tony responded, but his tone was passive enough that the other scientist continued.

"He thinks that something happened with Loki."

"He mentioned that."

"Did it?" Bruce's features were openly curious, but not hostile. Tony paused. He could trust Bruce. If he could trust _anyone_, it was Bruce. He could vent, explain the entire situation, explain the argument. Steve had probably spoken to him already, anyway. He was allowed his day in court, too, right?

Still.

"No, but Steve is making me seriously consider the super-villain lifestyle. I'd look good in a lair, you know," he joked. "Now, come on. I'm gonna make these guys react to each other, and, much like my chat with Steve last night, it'll be heavily explosive. My head hasn't pounded in a whole ten minutes, so let's make this place shake."

Bruce rolled his eyes exasperatedly, but his smile was fond.

* * *

"And hammer beats ax. Can we add that to the official Rock-Paper-Scissors manual?" Tony wondered as Thor's hammer slammed against Skurge's head. He blasted a few of the small magically-conjured creatures away from a group of civilians, then continued, "He down, big guy?"

"Aye," Thor agreed through his reinforced com. link, thrusting his hammer down once more for good measure. "We need only keep Amora from retrieving him."

"Yeah, that might be a little tough," Clint grunted, letting loose another well-aimed arrow that succeeded only in making the Enchantress scowl.

"I'm on my way. 49th is clear." Rogers announced, and Tony could vaguely see the patriotic speck racing across Rockefeller Plaza.

"I can handle babysitter duty. I think she might stop for Hammer Time," Tony directed, flying towards Skurge's unconscious body. It was usually Thor handling Amora and Skurge when they showed up, while the other Avengers managed damage control. In this particular fight, Thor was a better card to play than Iron Man.

Thor gave him a slight nod before throwing his hammer up. As his body followed it to the action, Tony nudged the unconscious meat-head with his booted toe.

So he'd volunteered- that didn't mean he hated babysitter duty any less.

"I must thank you for your involvement." Tony spun, and mentally cheered.

He was _finally_ wearing a suit during one of these freaky confrontations.

"If this is the trouble you were talking about, I gotta say: disappointed. Amora and her boy-toy aren't exactly at the top of my list." Loki smiled lazily.

"Of course not. I spoke of something far worse. Amora was merely an inconvenient thorn in my side, and I am happy to see her freedom taken from her."

"Since when is she a thorn in _your_ side? Last I heard, you were BFFs." Tony waited for someone to comment, to say something like, 'Gee, is Loki there? Back-up is on the way, old buddy, old pal!' But no. When he murmured a command to Jarvis, the AI replied,

"I am sorry, sir, but communications are currently down."

"Figures," he grunted. Loki seemed to have noticed his predicament, and had politely taken his time in replying.

"We are not currently seeing eye-to-eye. But I will be needing Skurge." Tony glanced at the out-cold executioner.

"Um, how about no? I'm kinda using him right now." Loki's smile grew.

"I do believe I require him more. He is hardly of any use currently, anyway. If you'd like, I can return him to you after I've finished?"

"I'd really prefer not lending him out. Who knows what condition you'll return him in?"

"Slightly used, but certainly not sullied," Loki answered, beginning to circle Tony and his prisoner. "Well. Not sullied _much_."

"Okay, very reassuring. But my honor rests on keeping him in Avengers custody, and you know how much I care about my honor." Tony's gauntlets buzzed with reigned-in power, and his body was tense. He wouldn't be making the first move, but he was prepared to defend. Preferably defend with explosions.

"Ah, yes, your care for your unspoiled reputation is well-known."

"Yep. So you might as well go before this gets ugly." His eyes flickered onto Skurge. "Well, any uglier."

"Your last opportunity to step aside." Loki's voice was almost sing-song, and Tony's instruments detected the surge of energy that always existed during a fight with Loki.

"Aaand, it's gone." Loki was lightening-fast (how can a being even _be_ that fast?), and Tony barely evaded the blast of green magic that proceeded to knock down the street lamp behind him. Tony's repulsors, eager to join the fight, swiftly created a few sizable ditches in the sidewalk.

Loki easily avoided the larger blasts, and barely cringed when a few managed to brush against him. There was a sudden boom, a thunder bolt that meant Tony's lack of chatter had been noticed. About time, really.

Loki scowled, then directed his index finger at the suit.

Which promptly malfunctioned in a dazzling (almost-seizure inducing) display of error screens and alarms. The arms sparked crazily (hell, he could feel the shock run through his veins), and the legs buckled beneath him. With only his body supporting the weight, Tony quickly crashed against the sidewalk, scowling against the clip-show of 'Not Responding' and 'Damage' and 'Power Levels Depleted'.

"Remain in good health," Loki told him with a smile, as his thin arms somehow collected the mass of weight that was Skurge. Tony could only helplessly glare after him as the two teleported away.

"Anthony!"

"Still Tony, and get me out of here." The suit suddenly came alive again, the error messages dissolving into the clean faceplate he'd learned to love. "Never mind. Did you get Amora?"

"Yes. It was only after we'd incapacitated her that we realized you were no longer among us." A pause as Tony got to his feet, eyes racing as he checked the suit for any permanent damage. A clean bill of health.

Yay.

"Was that Loki?" Tony nodded, annoyed.

"He said he wanted Skurge. Any idea why?" Thor shrugged. The motion seemed silly with his broad shoulders and huge body. Childlike, almost.

"I know not the reason. Skurge is of Jotun birth, and Loki has never been one to associate with-" He paused, searching, probably, for the right words. "-Those of similar heritage." Tony nodded, thinking.

"Well, he was happy to know we got Amora. I guess they're not very close anymore. Maybe he just took Skurge to annoy her. Seems like a thing he'd do." He frowned, then shook his head. "It's more complex than that, I just don't get _how_." Thor's smile was tainted with nostalgia.

"I must admit my brother has often perplexed me." By kidnapping? Tony resisted rolling his eyes. Really, that blind spot was getting annoying. He didn't understand how Clint could handle it.

"Tony?"

"Oh, glad to see you all came to my rescue just in time." Tony announced sarcastically, turning with crossed arms toward the other Avengers who had just arrived.

"Where's Skurge?" Rogers demanded, frowning past Tony's shoulder. The engineer scowled.

"Loki kidnapped him. And, y'know, tried to kill me again, but I guess we're all used to that by now."

"He's trying to turn you evil, not murder you," Clint replied happily. Tony removed his faceplate just so Barton could see the extent of his unimpressed glare.

"Do we know what he wants with him?" Rogers pressed, but Tony just shook his head.

"No clues on this end." Steve scowled, but nodded.

"Well, we still got Amora." His attempt at optimism failed mainly due to the fact that his scowl hadn't gone away before he spoke.

"Hey, where's Skurge?" Five heads turned to the half-dressed scientist trotting towards them.

Tony's glare was interrupted by a violent sneeze.

* * *

"Man of Iron?"

"Enter at your own peril," Tony answered stiffly, brushing a palm beneath his nose. He was getting sick. Impossible, really, because his immune system was a thing of pride, a truly magnificent testament to how drinking alcohol might really sanitize your insides. And, because it was impossible, he'd chosen to ignore it. He continued to type as Thor entered the lab.

"I would speak to you," The demi-god stated, uncharacteristically uncertain-looking.

"I would listen," Tony agreed. "Well, I mean, I _would_ listen, but this is actually pretty important. I can multi-task. Go." Thor nodded slightly.

"My brother. You have had words with him on several occasions." And oh. Shit. Tony resisted a groan. He knew where this was going. Thor was looking for proof that his adopted brother wasn't all bad, and he was the messenger that said, yes, he was. And what happens to the messenger?

Yes. He gets flattened by a hammer.

"I have," he agreed distantly, pausing only to cough into the crook of his elbow. It was the cold, of course. Winter wasn't quite there yet, but it was close enough to attack.

"I would like to know what he spoke of." Thor paused. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but Tony leapt before he could.

"I told the team what he said," he informed him matter-of-factly. "I know Fury has got it all typed up somewhere. If you want a copy-"

"No," Thor refused quickly. Tony got the feeling he wasn't much of a reader. "I know what you relayed to our Director. But I speak more of topics. Surely, if he were to _manipulate_ you, he did so subtly?" Why'd he emphasize manipulate like that? It was as if he didn't think that that was the aim.

Maybe it wasn't just a blind _spot_. Maybe, like his father, Thor's entire eye was cursed with that mild yolk. If anyone could cause that sort of trouble, it'd be the God of Mischief.

But, okay, he'd be honest. Thor deserved a little honesty after a lifetime of Loki.

So, what had he talked about?

"Like I said, Manhattan invasion, population problems, ni-"_ghtmares_. Okay, fly over that one. Not that much honesty. "-he threatened Pepper. I dunno what you want to know here, big guy."

"He threatened Virginia Potts?"

"I'm about 300% sure she'd prefer Pepper. Or Ms. Potts. Or Potts. She really doesn't like being called by her full name, is what I'm saying here."

"But he threatened her?" Tony nodded, then paused.

"Well, he kept asking questions about her."

"Questions." Thor repeated, eyes gleaming. Tony coughed against his fist, ignoring the headache that was manifesting. Because, once again: not sick. Impossible.

"Yeah. He just showed up in my lab. It was after that desert thing, you remember? He asked about her, what she was to me. I guess he was trying to figure out who to threaten to get to me. But I got Fury to keep an eye on her, so he backed off." Thor's look of uncertainty and confusion seemed to have been replaced by a determined sense of purpose.

"SHIELD agents deterred him?" Tony shrugged.

"I guess so. I also told him we weren't a thing, so maybe he just figured she wasn't important enough of a mark." Thor nodded again, face suddenly indiscernible. He did that sometimes: he was all open and jolly, but give him a scrap of information to conceal and he'd be the master of a poker face. Except Tony really hadn't given him any secrets.

"And he has not spoken to you since that evening you told us of?" Tony shifted slightly, grabbing his coffee off of the desk.

"Nope, not a word."

"Other than this afternoon." Tony had been denying communication with Loki for a week dishonestly, ever since that damn argument with Steve. It was second-hand nature to just dismiss it.

"Yeah." He swallowed roughly. "Obviously other than this afternoon."

"And you would swear to this."

"On a stack of Gideon bibles, if it eases your mind. I don't fraternize with enemies, Thor, hand to all the gods from your pretty realm." He avoided eye contact as he spoke, fingers gliding over the keyboard.

"Anthony, what think you of my brother?" He glanced to his right, confusion stalling his typing.

"What, like-? Honestly?" Thor nodded seriously. "Insane with a hint of terrifying. No offense," he added half-heartedly, returning to the program. Thor laid a hand on his forearm, and Tony stilled.

"I apologize for the lack of clarity in my phrasing. I meant-" Thor paused, brows furrowed in frustration. After a few seconds, his eyes grew alight with some idea. "It is simply that you often remind me of him." That got Tony's attention.

Not necessarily in a good way, but he still turned with a skeptical expression.

"Meaning?"

"You are both studious," Thor began. "Fine warriors. Excellent in your own fields. Dedicated." He paused, withdrawing his hand as he continued. "I also feel that, because you both excel in your chosen studies, you can be-" Another pause, searching for an elusive word. "-aloof."

"Aloof."

"Aye," Thor repeated haltingly. "Not in a negative way, I assure you. It is simply that you often retreat to your laboratory just as my brother did to the solace of the library. I see such startling similarities it truly confounds me."

"I promise I won't try and take over the world," Tony told him, unsure how to respond. It was certainly flattering, since the comparisons had been positive enough. He snorted. "I really can't imagine Loki in a library, though." Thor smiled gently, and it almost seemed as though he'd succeeded, somehow.

"Oh, the shelves were truly more his home on Asgard than the palace. I would go with him, some days, and be content to watch him read and practice magic. It was a very peaceful place."

"Is that who you see?" Tony asked before his brain could think to filter the thought. He decided to run with it. "Still, I mean?" Thor's grin was strained somewhat.

"Aye. Though he trembles with some madness I cannot comprehend, I see still the fine man he is beneath it. And he _is_ a fine man, Anthony. An honorable creature I battled alongside for many years, for many lifetimes. I know he will recover, and become once more the man I love, but I know not when."

"But you're willing to wait." Thor nodded.

"As long as it might take for him to see sense once more. I regret what might require doing in order for that sense to be seen, but I will do as I must. He is my brother, Anthony, and he is a good man."

"Tony." The correction was half-hearted. Tony was trying to reconcile the insane god he knew with the bookworm Thor was describing. With the person he'd spoken to. He was in the middle of remembering a long fall from a broken window when a coughing jag racked his frame.

"Are you alright, Anthony?"

Jesus, what does it take? Maybe he should just wear a name-tag.

"Just a cough." He managed. He grabbed the lukewarm coffee from the counter and downed it, blinking past wet eyes. "It's the cold," he explained. And probably the lack of sleep, the lack of eating, and the fights.

But he still wasn't _sick_.

"You are ill," Thor said disapprovingly. "You must rest."

"Not ill. That's not a thing I do." Tony denied, returning to his program. But his brain was fuzzy. It was as if someone had replaced his brain with cotton balls.

_And what kind of cold comes on this fast?_

"Come. You have had a day of battle, and even a mind as fine as yours requires rest."

"Believe it or not, flattery isn't the cure-all for me," Tony managed. He'd just gotten the sentence out when he was literally lifted out of his chair. He struggled until he pictured what he looked like, and then he just sulked. "If you're gonna carry me like this, you have to consummate it."

"I shall leave that honor to someone else," Thor replied jauntily. Tony hated that he was already falling asleep. The mild sickness he'd felt since the fight had developed into something real, a weariness he couldn't deny now that his mind wasn't focused on a task.

And this was stupid, because he _never gets sick_.

"80th floor." He informed his teammate-turned-steed as they stepped into the elevator. It immediately zipped up (proof Jarvis was on Thor's side), and Thor entered the room with a look of great interest.

"This is a fine room, Anthony."

"Yeah, it's grand. Am I trusted on my feet?" Thor let him down, and Tony didn't admit that he already missed the warmth and support of another body. He touched his forehead with the back of his hand, and almost hissed at the heat.

But that was probably all in his head, because he couldn't have a fever this strong this fast.

That particular thought was quickly forgotten as he noticed the direction in which Thor was walking.

"Hey, uh, Thor, um. Bedroom is this way." He felt like an idiot. That entire talk about Loki, and he'd neglected to mention the little artifact resting on his coffee table. After testing it in the lab, he'd discarded it here. Like an idiot. For any old Norse god to find.

Thor nodded distantly, but his attention had been won by the (admittedly brilliant, because Tony designed it all himself) living room.

"You are much like royalty in this realm, Anthony." He observed, and Tony resisted a snort.

"Yeah, well, you can call me 'your majesty' if you lay off 'Anthony'." He stumbled towards the bedroom. It wasn't like Thor to snoop, right?

And he was just _really_ tired.

"-Anthony?" And, yeah, okay, Thor was a snooper, add it to his list of traits. "How came this knife to be here?" Tony turned, blinking past the waves of weariness that really hadn't been there ten minutes before.

"Yeah, sorry, skipped that detail because I wanted to examine it in the lab. Figured Fury would want it if I mentioned it."

"He gave it to you." Thor surmised, lifting the blade with a kind of reverence that made Tony itch to leave.

"He left it, yeah." Thor smiled slightly, a radiant and knowing thing that seemed to brighten the dark room.

"Very well." He placed it back on the table as Tony watched in confusion. "Let us bring you rest." That it? Okay, well, Tony wasn't one to argue. He'd expected a rant for keeping information to himself (and man, if Thor knew he'd spoken to Loki just a week before, Tony would be leading the record for number of lightening strikes in one place), but silence was better. Much better.

"Not even arguing anymore, big guy," he agreed, deciding to ignore that whole little incident in the hopes that Thor would do the same. He was exhausted. "I haven't even got the energy to ravish you."

"You are forgiven," Thor answered amicably, leading the tired engineer towards the bedroom. "I shall let the others know of your illness."

"I'll sleep it off," Tony denied as he kicked off his shoes. "I'll be down by the morning." Thor nodded, and Tony tried to ignore the feeling that he was being scrutinized as he wormed his way beneath the sheets.

"Would you not prefer wearing something more comfortable?" Thor asked, and Tony rolled his eyes. Thor had made it abundantly clear that he slept in the nude. It had taken a week and an embroidered robe ("I shall treasure this gift, my friends," he'd said, but Clint had assured him that he didn't need to treasure it so long as he wore it) for him to realize that wandering around naked just wasn't okay.

(Well, Tony didn't really mind, but Steve's face had been cherry red and Pepper had looked absolutely scandalized for all of two seconds before she simply looked resigned, wearing her old this-is-what-working-for-Tony-gets-me expression.)

"Is it an Asgard thing to be obsessed with what I sleep in?" He demanded grumpily, curling up despite himself as a chill traced its way up and down his spine.

"My brother has made inquiries?"

"Checked for himself." The engineer answered. If Thor had a reply, Tony didn't hear it. His mind was uncomfortably numb and fuzzy, but being in bed seemed to relieve the symptoms. In fact, he thought as he drifted off, he seemed completely cured.

* * *

Okay, so, Thor has got some serious suspicions, Loki has got something up his sleeve (probably not a good something, since this fic has inexplicably become not-fluff), and Tony has a mysterious cold that mysteriously showed up after Loki mysteriously kidnapped Skurge.

I'm going out of town this weekend, but I'll try to update next week or the week after.


	11. Chapter 11

I admit I'd kinda given up on this story. I wanted to finish it, but I could never really find the interest. Then, all of a sudden, the second semester started and I have a math exam tomorrow. And then finishing this became incredibly important. So, once again, I apologize for the wait. I doubt anyone out there even cares anymore, but, if there are readers, I promise I'll finish.

* * *

-Chapter 11-

"Hey, you're alive!" Clint sounded congratulatory, and Tony just glared. The effect was lessened by the glob of snot he could feel welled up in his nose.

"Could you be louder?" He sneered, tugging open the fridge door. Clint shrugged.

"I could probably find a megaphone, but I'd rather be here when you faint. Didn't Thor lock you in your room?"

"It's _my_ house," Tony replied, as if that explained everything. It did, technically. There was no door in the tower that Jarvis couldn't unlock if he asked nicely. "Where's the beer?"

"I don't think that's what Banner meant by fluids," Clint answered amiably.

"Even if it were, it's not even noon," Bruce admonished, entering the kitchen with a slight frown on his face. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"It's a cold, not influenza. I think I'm capable of getting my own coffee."

"Which is what you were in the kitchen getting." Clint agreed sarcastically, giving a curt nod before he took a sip of his own coffee. Tony crossed his arms, hoping he looked more annoyed than cold. It was _freezing_ in here.

"Remind me again why I let you guys live here."

"It's a tax write-off and we're beautiful. There's some coffee in the pot." Tony nodded, twisting to pour himself a mug. After a gulp that was less satisfying than he might have liked (it was tepid and decaf- an awful combination), he nodded at the doctor.

"Working on anything cool?"

"Nothing that I want contaminated," Bruce answered with a wry grin, reaching into a cabinet.

"It's a _cold_." Tony stressed. "I'm pretty much over it already."

"It's been three days and you still look like you're about to fall over," he answered reasonably as he poured some of the tea he'd retrieved into an infuser. "It might be a cold, but you're making it worse by wandering around."

"Not to mention Thor will start a hurricane if he sees you out of bed again," Clint added. "And I've had enough of those to last a while. But I have no interest in playing nursemaid, so if you fall over, I'll just hide you somewhere he won't find you." He tapped his head to the side. "Maybe the library. I don't think he's much of a reader." Tony didn't mention that he'd come to the same conclusion- he simply scowled.

"Don't touch my body when I'm unconscious, Barton. Just try your luck when I'm awake."

"I don't want to catch anything."

"I'm not worth some sniffles? I'm hurt."

"Oh, like that's all you've got."

"Why is he out of bed?" Three heads spun to the door. Even Bruce paused, infuser dangling from its chain just above the pot. Natasha was unimpressed with their if-we-don't-move-she-can't-see-us approach. "You're supposed to be resting."

"Barton's attempts at getting me in the sack are laughable, and you know what they say is the best medicine."

"Appropriate dosages of prescribed drugs?" Bruce muttered under his breath as he tapped his glasses up his nose. Natasha stepped inside, and the only sound was the plop of metal being submerged in hot water. Tony couldn't help but relate.

"I'm just getting coffee." He stated firmly, nodding at the pot as if to prove he were being honest. "Since Barton brewed liquid crap, I'm just making a fresh pot and then returning to my house arrest. Happy, or will we be adding an ankle monitor to the ensemble?"

A pause. Only Clint seemed unaffected by her cold stare. He just stirred his coffee lazily.

"After you've gotten your coffee, I'd suggest returning to your room and resting. Your current condition isn't conducive to effectiveness in the field." Another, shorter pause. "Or, if it's more of an incentive, I passed Ms. Potts in the lobby. She'll be up in approximately five minutes."

"Shit-" Tony nearly spat out the last of his weak, cold coffee, and glanced at the elevator. "How was that not your opening line?" Her shrug was careless.

"I wanted to understand your reasons for being out of bed. Perhaps there had been an emergency." And, yeah, that glint in her eye made it clear that that wasn't her real thought process. Judging by Clint's matching grin, they just both found Pepper's rants towards him hilarious.

And, yeah, fuck them.

"Bruce, distraction?" Bruce smiled over his shoulder.

"I'm making tea. Very calming."

"I can knock it over."

"Then you'll have to mop." Tony rolled his eyes even as Clint laughed, and shuffled awkwardly past the counter.

"This is stupid. You guys are assholes."

"It would have been harder to sleep with coffee anyway," Bruce rationalized, even as he removed a mug from the cabinet. It was almost insulting. "I'll bring you some tea, if you want it."

"Your fifty-dollar imported tea tastes like fifty-dollar imported dirt." He coughed against his elbow, frowning as his vision grew spotty. "Um, I wouldn't say 'no' to a dark lager, though." Another cough, and he could swear he felt his ribs shake.

"You still alive?" Clint questioned, voice almost distant.

"Still standing," Tony retorted, although his legs swayed as if to contradict him.

"I think I've heard the phrase 'dead man walking' before. Or the 'walking dead'." Logically, Tony knew the archer was referencing a show he liked. Something about zombies and sheriffs and inattentive mothers. But that logical brain was somehow foggy, as if it were a few feet away. Instead of reaching that conclusion, he immediately thought of Yinsen. _Because they take about a week to reach your heart._ His chest ached as if in reply.

"Yeah, well, I'm walking _away_ from you." He stumbled forward, and felt hands grab at his shoulders.

"Okay, let's belay that retreat," He heard Clint say. "I'm sure you're swooning because of me, but I prefer drowning in your eyes. Look at me." When had his eyes closed? Tony mumbled a reply- something about a map and getting lost- but jolted from unconsciousness by a slap against his face.

"I don't like it that rough." He grunted as Clint swam into view.

"It's good to try new things," he answered. "Can you hear me?"

"When can't I hear you?" Tony demanded. "You're not exactly quiet."

"I know you like them loud. Bruce, what should we be doing?" There was a reply- a garbled, distant one- but Tony couldn't find it in himself to focus.

* * *

When he woke up a few hours later, Thor was gone.

"He said he had some stuff to do," Bruce had explained, peering up over his tablet. "Said he might be a few days."

"Probably seeing Jane," Tony had said, although he was inwardly a little doubtful. Thor had seemed off the past few days.

Now, at nearly two in the afternoon, he was still in bed. That in itself wasn't much of a feat, but it did frustrate him since he'd been up since nine. Especially since he felt _fine_.

"You're not fine," Bruce disagreed, voice not betraying the impatience he had to be feeling. Tony had been complaining for hours. "Your fever is still above 101."

"Maybe I'm just hot-blooded." Tony pointed out, glaring at the ceiling.

"It's a theory," Bruce agreed, returning his attention to his tablet. After Tony's third escape attempt, the scientist had decided to relocate to the bedroom. Tony was frustrated, because he was definitely fine. It was just that every time he got out of bed, he couldn't control his body. He would stumble, or feel faint, or cough like a smoker of fifty years (and that was a vice he hadn't had since college). But five minutes in bed, and he was perfectly healthy. Except for his uncooperative temperature that denied him any more chances at freedom.

"Don't you have an experiment you need to be checking?" Bruce hummed slightly in affirmation.

"I'm actually working on a social one. How long will it take a bed-prone engineer to risk his life with the Hulk on another harebrained escape attempt?"

"I'd say the clock is ticking down fast," Tony grunted, sitting up. Even that made him feel exponentially worse, as if the mild possibility of his leaving the bed affected his immune system. It was as if Bruce the over-protective caretaker had designed it. "What temperature is it now?" Bruce dutifully stood, and pressed the thermometer into Tony's ear. The oral one had quickly been discarded, after Tony proved unable to stay silent for that long. "Well?"

"102.6."

"That's not possible." Bruce shrugged as if to say, '_told you so_'. "I'm serious. I feel awesome. I could run a marathon."

"Maybe if it were horizontal," he allowed. "But you're probably just enjoying the rest."

"'Enjoying' is not the word I'd use."

"Try going back to sleep." The doctor instructed, sitting back down. Tony gave an exaggerated groan.

"That's your answer to everything."

"Because your sleep schedule shouldn't be humanly possible." Tony opened his mouth to lie/deny it, but Jarvis spoke before he could.

"Sir, Director Fury is on the line."

"Oh, perfect, _he's_ what I need for my headache." Bruce raised an eyebrow. "That I don't have. Just put him on, Jarvis."

"Stark, hear you're having a sick day."

"Not voluntarily. What do you want?"

"Well, you sound healthy enough for this," Fury mused. "We've got a program trying to eat its way into our defense systems. It's not close, but it's closer than we'd like it to be. None of my boys can trace it."

"See, Bruce? Even Fury is willing to give me games to play with. Bruce-y just wanted me to sleep. Gimme a sec, Fury. I'll get your bad guy."

"Give me coordinates once you've got them." Fury left without any niceties, and Tony eagerly held his hand out for the tablet. The doctor pushed his glasses up as he heaved a disapproving sigh.

"Are you sure you should be doing this?"

"Are you kidding? National security, sweetheart. I can't say 'no' when my country asks for my help. That was Uncle Sam calling, and he wants _me_." Smirking slightly at Tony's enthusiasm, Bruce obligingly relented the computer. The moment Tony touched the metal, however, his mind grew fuzzy and his limbs unnervingly heavy. The tablet fell onto the comforter, his grasp too loose.

"Oh, sorry," Bruce apologized, assuming it had been his fault. But when he tried giving the tablet to the engineer again, Tony still couldn't find his way to holding it securely. He could see the worry spill onto the other man's features. "Tony?"

"Okay," he mumbled, head rolling back onto the pillow. "It feels like 102.6 now. I give." Bruce tossed the tablet aside, sitting beside his friend. Tony swerved in and out of consciousness, aware only of passing sentences and random moments of blurred sight. When his world went entirely black, he let it go blissfully.

* * *

"You should really be in a hospital." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Considering it's the 21st century, I didn't think broken records were this popular."

"I already told him," Bruce told Steve without glancing up. "We'll have to wait until he faints again so we can take him."

"Against my will?" Tony cried, exaggeratedly aghast. Bruce only passed him an amused smirk. "And it's not fainting- it's passing out. Much more masculine."

"Maybe if you didn't have such a feminine fear of hospitals."

"It's not feminine," Pepper informed them, entering the room with her hands already drawn to her hips. "I've had my shots. Tony is more ambiguously gendered."

"51% of New York begs to differ. What are you doing here?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Do you really have to ask that?"

"Well, considering you seem angry, I'm guessing you've found out something that's incriminating. But the list of things I hide from you is pretty long, so save us some time?" She didn't even smirk. That was a bad sign.

"Dr. Banner called me, telling me you'd fainted-"

"_Passed out_."

"-and were unresponsive."

"For _five_ seconds. And I still had a pulse, so what's the big deal? I took a catnap. I'm eccentric."

"Having a pulse does not give you bragging rights, Tony." She retorted. "You need to be at the hospital. It's been almost a _week_."

"Yeah, but this is the first time I've been sick in twenty years. I'm using up my sick days." He stuck his chin up stubbornly, but she was unimpressed.

"Well, unfortunately, you're using them the same week I scheduled for fumigating. Terrible timing." His eyebrows jumped up.

"You're kicking me out?"

"It's that, or you're poisoned to death with the other pests." She was smiling, finally, and he realized as soon as he saw it that he was going to give in. Even if he hated hospitals with a fiery passion, making Pepper happy was pretty important these days. She might sneak off if he didn't.

He did, however, put up a few more token protests. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

"You insult me. I think I'm going to go have some sugar water and nurse my wounded pride."

"You can't even stand." Bruce pointed out. Tony admitted to that with a nod.

"I can hire someone to mix me some sugar water, then."

"We all just want you to get better," Steve broke in, guilt and concern warring on his face. The man was just too damn sincere. Between his watery eyes and Pepper's stony glare, Tony never had a chance.

"I'll get better with basic cable and chicken noodle soup. It's a staple." Pepper, perhaps recognizing this as the final struggle, let her arms drop from their offensive position.

"It's the hospital with Nurse Roberts." He forced an excited grin, and said,

"You could've opened with that. Grab my suitcase and tell them I need a sponge bath STAT!"

* * *

The hospital room was awful. In that, of course, it was a private room with a DVR box and a window with a pleasant view. But it still had that _smell_, and that off-shade white, and the sea of unfamiliar people placed in charge of him. It made Tony's skin crawl and his brain itch. He wanted to ditch the backless dress and jump out of the window. If he didn't survive the jump, at least his last view would be a pleasant one.

"I know you don't like this," Pepper was saying. "-but you'll probably be fine within a day or two. They can make sure you get the rest you need."

"I'm not sick enough for a _hospital_." Tony grumbled. She nodded her head in that way that meant she didn't really agree.

"It's just to be sure. Having you disappear for a week was making the stockholders antsy."

"When are they not antsy? I could be reading in the public library and they'd be working themselves into a frenzy." She tapped her head to the side as if she were thinking.

"It depends on what you're reading." He acknowledged that with a nod.

"1984."

"Fury would be antsy if you were reading that." He smirked in her direction.

"Fury gets antsy?"

"Only when you're involved, I'm sure. Listen," She glanced at her phone. "-do you want me to hang out here for a while? I can cancel th-"

"No, no, don't cancel anything. I'm a big boy. I can handle busty nurses and getting high off meds I don't need. Go be the super CEO."

"If you insist." She moved in to peck his forehead, then retreated. "Get better."

"If you insist." As she moved to leave, a thought occurred to him. "Hey, Pep?" She turned at the door, eyebrow questioningly raised.

"Are you really fumigating the place?" She smirked.

"If a cockroach climbs all the way to_ your_ floor, it deserves to live. Sorry." He smiled back, glad that they were at the stage where she could blatantly lie to him.

"Just making sure. You know I love my pest brothers. They keep me company when I can get rid of Steve." She laughed.

"I have to head back there for a meeting anyway; I'll make sure they know you miss them." When she'd left the room, he shifted slightly. As before, he felt better now that he wasn't actively attempting to do anything. Maybe that was what people meant when they said you needed rest. He'd never been sick much, so maybe this was the real deal. If you move with the intention of doing things, you immediately rush to death's door.

It was possible.

He scowled at the ceiling. He wished that he were able to do something. Anytime he even tried working (in those spare moments that he wasn't being watched like a hawk (guess who had babysitter duty)), he'd feel as if Thor and the Hulk had ganged up on him. Without work, his brain was running wild with thoughts he was unable to write down or record in any way. Even when transmitting them to Jarvis, he had run into a mild(-turned severe) headache. So no making, no programming, no debugging Fury's defense systems, no upgrading Barton's arrows.

It was pretty much any Stark Competitor/Super Villain's wet dream. Or both, because, really, in Tony's world, they were one-and-the-same.

And the mention of 'Super Villain' turned him onto the tangent of Loki. What did the guy want with Skurge? And what, for that matter, did he want with Tony? And what was the trouble he'd mentioned last time he broke into Tony's tower?

And why had Thor acted so weirdly when he heard about said appearance?

Maybe Asgardians were born weird. It was probably in the Odison genetic code. Which, because they're aliens, had been passed onto the adopted Loki. Yep, that was most likely.

"Jar-" He cut himself off, feeling silly. If he could just get some work done, he wouldn't be running through random and irrelevant nonsense when he could be revolutionizing technology.

He heard slowed footsteps past his door, and breathed slowly through his nose. Or, if he didn't focus on the off-world Duke Brothers, he'd have to remember that he was in a hospital, with germs, and surgeries, and death. It wasn't that he was a Mysophobe. That was definitely a stretch. He was, after all, knee-deep in germs on any given day, and even deeper on a good day. Ever since the whole palladium incident, sure, he'd been more _conscious_ of them, but he didn't go out of his way to avoid them. Other than the no-handing-me thing, but considering the percentage of people that didn't wash their hands regularly, it wasn't that weird of a quirk. And as for surgeries? Well, he could blame that (like so many other recent fears) on Afghanistan. Like germs, he didn't go out of his way to avoid them. He just didn't go out of his way to deal with them. Being stuck in a building that specialized in them (that _stank_ like them) was just a bit sucky. No big deal, it wasn't anything crippling, he just didn't like it.

And who likes death? He could still remember flying to the hospital just in time to hear them call the death. Well, talk about calling the death. He'd technically been ten minutes late. Well, twenty minutes late for Howard. He still got to see the bodies, and he still got to identify them (as if that were necessary). So he didn't technically miss the party.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyed that a little cold had made him delve into boring introspection.

Thankfully, his own thoughts were tiresome enough that he fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

When he woke up, it was to chaos. The footfalls were rapid now, more determined, and the air screamed of beeping machines and groans and the snaps of impatient and overworked doctors. He leapt from his bed, and scrambled to the door. When he opened it, he blinked several times to make sure the happy-feel-good-time medicine wasn't just affecting his vision.

The hall was lined with beds, IV drips doing their damnedest even as their patients twisted and moaned and generally just sounded unhappy.

"Mr. Stark!" One of the nurses, eyes lined with exhausted bags, rushed towards him. "You need to get back to your bed."

"What happened?" He demanded, ignoring her instructions.

"That's none of your concern; you need to get to bed. You're going to-"

"I'm fine," he snapped, pushing past her to glare down the hall. As he'd suspected, the beds ran down to even the elevator. The place was packed- full house. "What happened? What happened to these people?"

"There was an attack," she finally relented, arm outstretched as if she wanted to pull him back physically. "Sir, you need to-"

"Where? What happened?" Guilt was churning in his stomach. Not only had he not been there to stop it, he was taking up valuable space with his goddamn private room. He stormed down the hall as the nurse raced after him.

"Sir!"

"Where?" He repeated, stabbing the button to go down as she slowed beside him.

"You need to rest, Mr. Stark-!"

"Where?" His glare must have been formidable, because she finally faltered.

"The Stark Industries Building. Bu-"

"I'm fine," he hissed, slipping into the room. As the doors closed, he added, "I'm signing out." As the chamber began its descent, he swallowed heavily and stared at the ground. Okay, so his building was hit. Bad, judging by the fact that they had too many patients for the rooms. And by the fact that this hospital wasn't the closest to the building, meaning other places were filled up, too. He straightened as he neared the lobby, puffing out his chest slightly so he'd appear healthy.

It hit him as the doors opened, revealing a room of bloodied victims, half of them howling like they were still in the throes of whatever attack had landed them here, and the other half silent as corpses.

He _was_ healthy.

* * *

Godammit, Loki. You don't even have a speaking role in this chapter, and you're still fiddlin' stuff up.

Also, can anyone notice at what point I stopped writing for two months?


	12. Chapter 12

I've gotta say, I really enjoy seeing what you guys are thinking. A few of you seem to be right on the mark regarding Tony's illness, and its characteristics. I'm also glad that people still seem to be interested, considering the time that has passed.

Thanks so much for the reviews! Coming back from a long day and reading them made me want to get started on the next chapter right away.

* * *

-Chapter 12-

When Tony decided to hail a cab, he forgot that he was undressed and credit card-less. It didn't really matter anyway, though, because traffic was at a standstill. He took off running, deciding to ignore his miraculous recovery until he had the brain power to really handle it. At the moment, he had bigger things to worry over.

Like, for instance, the fact that the building he'd designed with Pepper (oh, god, _Pepper_) had been hit. He could see the smoke from the hospital block, and it made his stomach lurch. He got some incredulous looks as he ran, hospital gown flapping in the wind, but ignored them. A mantra of _she's okay everyone's okay _made everything of lesser importance dim into a vague background. His ears stung with a high-pitched note combined of stress and adrenaline, and even when his legs cramped, he kept running.

When he spotted a police cruiser, however, he decided traveling by foot was for the primitive (I.e, not Tony Stark). He leapt in front of the vehicle. He'd expected some resistance, but, thankfully, his face was recognizable enough.

"I'll take you," The driver promised, unlocking the back door. As the car whizzed down the avenue, the radio sang of wounded civilians and causalities. Tony tapped his index finger anxiously against his reactor, foot bouncing in sync. When the car pulled up to the cautionary tape, he jumped out the moment he was able to. "Mr. Stark!" Despite that the officer had been helpful, Tony paid him no mind.

The lobby stank of smoke and copper, and Tony barreled toward the stairs.

"Sir." Jarvis was still online, and Tony felt like punching the air and screeching with relief. He managed to deny himself the impulse.

"Jarvis, is Pepper okay?" She'd been at her damn meeting- he should have demanded she cancel it, stay with him.

"She was removed by paramedics shortly after the explosion, sir. Doctor Banner insisted she be high priority." Tony sagged against the wall, legs turned boneless within seconds.

"Oh, thank god. Condition?" Jarvis paused. Jarvis, being an AI, shouldn't be _able_ to pause, shouldn't have the choice to consider whether or not to divulge information. "Jarvis?"

"I am unsure, sir. I believe she is currently in surgery at New York Presbyterian Hospital." Tony's legs regrew their bones as he shot towards the door.

"Sir," Jarvis added as he bolted from the stairwell. Tony paused at the revolving doors of the lobby, glancing over his shoulder. "-I'm afraid there were intruders." Tony couldn't help the laugh.

"Yeah, buddy, I guessed."

"Sir, the workshop was compromised." He hissed through his teeth, feeling anew the fear of uncertainty.

"Damage?"

"Everything was stolen, sir."

"Every-?"

"All suits, all back-up reactors, all weapons. The computers were also infected with a virus that deleted all memory. I was able to shut myself down at this location before my mainframe was attacked. I rebooted from the Malibu location and reset all technology at Stark Tower remotely, but the damage is considerable." Tony was frozen to the spot. His Iron Man gear had been here- he preferred having it where he could keep his eye on it (_ha_). Everything had been in New York except for You, Butterfingers, and Dumm-e. He couldn't help but feel relief that they were still in California.

But the relief wasn't much beside the crippling fear that existed at the knowledge that everything he'd been working on was in the hands of some terrorist. He growled under his breath, then tore out. He would let that fester at the back of his mind, but he needed to get to the hospital for now.

Shell-shocked reporters that had been recording the billowing smoke at the higher levels (at least the integrity of the building wasn't compromised; the fight had obviously been brought to the Avengers initially) turned towards him with demands for comments or explanations. Having lived in the spotlight all his life, he disarmed them without a tantrum, or cursing, or anything that Pepper might yell at him for later.

When he slipped into a police cruiser that was to take him wherever he needed to be, he let his head roll back and thought.

Who had the firepower to take all of his stuff? Who had the knowhow to create a virus advanced enough to eat through _Jarvis_?

* * *

"Aren't you supposed to be at the hospital?" Tony glanced over his shoulder. Clint, of course. He was sitting on a bench pressed against the hallway wall. He looked a little worn (had a cast on his left arm, a split lip, a black eye, and who knew what was beneath the long sleeves and jeans?), but he wasn't in a coma, so it wasn't as bad as it might have been.

"This is a hospital. It counts." He shrugged, moving to the side so that Tony could sit. Though the engineer was at first going to decline ('I never outgrew fearing cooties'), exhaustion hit him hard and he decided to take the seat.

"Where're the others? You're the first I've seen, and I haven't got my cell." He had, technically, seen Pepper, but she had only just gotten out of a surgery that had (apparently) lasted five hours. The doctors hadn't looked optimistic when they rolled her out. But the first night would be important, they said, in seeing how they would progress. Seeing as how she was still fast asleep, Tony couldn't ask her for her opinion on whether he should freak the fuck out.

"Nat is back at headquarters. Bruce got into an argument with Fury, and she's playing diplomat."

"_Bruce_ got into an argument? When is the memorial service? I think I'll start with, 'Nick was a good man, but he was a real dumbass.'" Clint snorted.

"I don't think they'd let you eulogize."

"I'm a great eugooglizer." Clint smirked in his direction.

"You're so hot right now." Tony chuckled slightly, before realizing he was tapping the reactor again. He promptly stopped. Clint still noticed. "How's Pepper?"

"She'll be fine. This is her first vacation in a while, so she might milk it, but she'll come back before I can mess the company up too badly." He frowned and rested his back against the wall. "Y'know, no one knows what happened up there. I keep asking around, and they keep looking at me like I should know."

"Loki," he said without a beat. "Showed up, like, an hour after you left. Pretty okay timing on your part."

"I've been told I'm very punctual. Just him? No Skurge?"

"Not yet. We think he was just playing recon." He stiffened. "He also took-"

"The Iron Man stuff. Well, everything. I heard. What would Loki want with technology? He flat out makes fun of me for making awesome shit." Clint shrugged.

"Maybe he's a jealous god."

"Well, yeah, I got _that_. Was Thor around?"

"Still hasn't come back. We're thinking he's off-world, considering it's been hours since the attack and he hasn't even called."

"You think Sprint offers a truly universal plan?" Tony wondered wryly. "What about our fearless leader?"

"Steve was picking something up for Pepper across the city. Arrived in time to help with crowd control, but didn't get a shot at taking Loki out. The asshole transported with your tech as soon as he got everything he wanted from your lab." Clint cocked his head to the side. "What's the damage?"

"Bad. Jarvis says he erased everything, too. Considering he's Thor's brother, I don't know how any virus he made got past..." Tony stiffened as a thought occurred to him.

"Clint, why did Bruce get mad at Fury?" Clint shrugged.

"I wasn't around for that part. I was still getting this fucking cast on. Itches already." But Tony was already remembering defense systems, and firewalls that had desperately required his help.

"The _virus_." Tony groaned, thrusting his head back. Clint winced sympathetically when it slammed against the wall, but Tony could barely feel it. _Fuck_. "How paranoid is Fury, honestly?" He stood, and rushed down the hallway. Pepper wouldn't wake up for hours, anyway- perfect time to visit SHIELD. Clint bounced after him, confusion playing across his features.

"Almost as paranoid as you. What're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that the virus that ate through his damn system got through to mine because of him." Tony retorted. "I'm _thinking_ that he's been keeping tabs on me since before the goddamn Avengers Initiative started, and fucking Loki took advantage of that to steal everything on my computer. Iron Man blueprints, Arc Reactor schematics, weapons I was making for people on my team, and not inter-galactic terrorists. Scripts I was working on- Jarvis' script! Programs that could- theoretically, because I'm a good guy- effectively blackout big organizations."

"Like SHIELD?" Clint guessed sourly.

"Similar to SHIELD, yeah." Tony grunted, stabbing the elevator button. "You got a ride?"

"Sure. You wanna change?" The engineer glanced down at his hospital gown. "Not that I don't like the bare-ass look. It works for you. But I _have_ got some jeans in my car if your rich ass doesn't mind going commando." Tony nodded, appreciative.

"I'll buy you a Mercedes for this."

"I'd prefer an Audi, actually, if you can get on that."

* * *

"I hear you caused trouble." Bruce glanced up, surprise filling his eyes as he recognized Tony. "Should I be grounding you?"

"Are you alright?" The doctor demanded, standing. "We called the hospital, and they said you'd left."

"I abandon my post. It's a thing. Fury in there?" He gestured towards the door, and Bruce nodded. "I'm guessing you figured out where the virus came from."

"Virus?" Bruce wondered.

"Or not. How about you explain what kinda tiff you and Fury got in?" The scientist suddenly seemed a little sheepish.

"He wanted the Hulk to fight Loki."

"Makes sense," Tony admitted. "The big guy has a history of success thereabouts. The problem?"

"When Loki attacked, I was with Pepper," Bruce explained. "We were the only ones on Avengers floors. Natasha and Clint were in the gym, and Steve was-"

"Honey-do list, I've heard."

"He was obviously trying to inflict as much damage as he could, and was working his way toward the lab. Loudly. But the initial blast caused the roof to fall where we were. Pepper- have you seen her?"

"Came from there," Tony assured him, frowning as he recognized little tells that promised Bruce was feeling uneasy. He did seem to relax when he heard Tony already knew the bad news.

"She was hurt. Badly. She needed a physician, not a rage monster, and she needed one right then." He sat back down, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Tony joined him. "Maybe the Hulk wouldn't have hurt her, but she still had serious wounds that needed to be taken care of _immediately_."

"So you made the call not to turn big and green."

"Fury disagreed." Bruce told him with a nod. He was still avoiding eye contact. "Big-picture-wise, maybe the Hulk would have helped. But I couldn't've..." He trailed off, and Tony remembered the hallway full of patients. Had the Hulk come out and cut the fight short, maybe the number of causalities and wounds would be lower. But if the cost of that had been Pepper's life? He knew which option he would have chosen, and sat beside his friend.

Because regardless of how _some people_ saw it, people weren't math. He couldn't go down that route, couldn't accept that as a thought process, or else he would be a helluva lot closer to the way Loki thought.

If he were Bruce, maybe he would have considered the odds (recognized the likelihood of her being in a coma for the rest of her life) and changed. Maybe her life wasn't as important as the corresponding lives that were affected. Looking at Bruce, though, he felt immense, overwhelming gratitude.

"Thanks, Bruce," he murmured, letting one hand fall unceremoniously onto Bruce's. "I officially trust you to house-sit." Bruce snorted, body language relaxing instantly.

"You're gone for a day and your tower gets blown up. I think you should reconsider." Tony grinned at him.

"Never. I have to go yell at Fury for something else. Did you wanna join in?" Bruce's smile turned weary.

"I think I've had enough yelling for a lifetime. Was he the reason you were sick?" Tony blinked.

"Huh?"

"You mentioned a virus. And his being in trouble."

"Oh," he laughed. "I meant a computer virus. I think Nick-y has been less than candid about his spying activities."

"You expect him to be candid?"

"For the next five minutes? Absolutely. Wish me luck. If you don't see me for the rest of the week, dredge some lakes." He clapped the man's back as he stood, and made his way towards the door to Fury's office. It reminded him vaguely of going to see the Principal; Bruce, therefore, was in this equation the standard dressed-in-black-and-still-smelling-of-smoke troublemaker he'd often seen when he was called (private school principals had always enjoyed making themselves known in his academic career, perhaps thinking he'd bring them along to a future of fame and fortune).

"Honey, I'm home." Fury glared up as he opened the door. Tony was momentarily struck by how exhausted the man looked. It wasn't as if Loki attacking were anything new, but with at least a hundred people injured, this one certainly had the telltale warnings of presenting serious trouble to the SHIELD director. Tony waved away the sympathy, focusing on the anger.

"Shouldn't you be in the hospital?"

"They gave me a clean bill of health."

"I meant with Potts." _Oh_.

"She's still asleep. She won't miss me for a few hours. But you know I missed _you_." Fury raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. His poker face certainly hadn't been damaged.

"What do you want, Stark? I'm busy."

"I want to know how a computer virus snuck by Jarvis." The man's one eye narrowed.

"Seems like a problem you'd go to a programmer with."

"Unless someone were snooping around in my shit," Tony retorted. "-and had a clean path to my servers from their crappy government-wage ones."

"Are you implying I infected your computer system?" Tony laid a hand on the top of the chair, refusing to sit.

"No. I'm implying your programmers couldn't stop the virus that barreled its way into _your_ system yesterday and that your oh-so-competent spies left a way open for it to get to mine." Fury shook his head.

"Listen, Stark, if your computers contracted a virus from some porn you watched, it's not any of my concern. In case you haven't noticed, New York is under at-"

"Not New York," Tony corrected. "Me. He got _my_ tower, and _my_ tech. Loki got everything, Fury, from the Iron Man suit to the coding that makes up Jarvis. And you know what else? He got fucking Pepper, who you promised to protect." It slipped out before he'd even considered saying it, and he felt his stomach turn over again. Pepper shouldn't have been Fury's to protect, or Bruce's. He should have been able to keep her safe on his own. But everyone had failed in the end, and that was utter shit.

Fury was silent, eye appraising as Tony glared.

"Stark-"

"Shut it. Just shut the fuck up. You're the reason Iron Man is in the hands of a lunatic, and Pepper is in the hospital because your men couldn't do their job. You even told Bruce to leave her fucking behind." He shook his head, devastated and angry and guilty. The week had been an overload. The attack, Pepper, his weird sickness, that first fight with Amora and Skurge, and Loki's visit where he'd promised trouble. Well, here it was. The sicko had officially proven he just wanted Tony dead.

"Tony-?" He spun, anger growing as he saw Steve standing in the doorway, expression concerned.

"And you," he continued, smirking callously. "You weren't much help, were ya?"

He left before either man could reply, and ignored Bruce when he called after him.

He needed a break.

* * *

"So, I got in trouble already. You didn't give me two weeks notice, and now Fury has to deal with the consequences." Pepper's heart monitor beeped in response. He liked to think it sounded mildly chastising, but inwardly amused.

The day before had been spent in a drunken stupor at a house he owned relatively near the metropolitan area. He wasn't sure if Fury knew about it, but figured the director was smart enough to give him space if he did. When he'd arrived, the doctors had informed him that it wasn't looking good for her, and that the crucial overnight period had been a success only in that she'd come out of it stable. They had no idea when she was going to wake up, if ever.

"I'm thinking of quitting," he continued. He'd been talking for an hour already, ignoring the visitor hours because he could. The hospital was no longer in so great a state of chaos, but his name was a brand of credit card people couldn't deny. "I'd have to find a new hobby. Maybe crocheting. I've already got the callouses for it, and I could make you a little hat." He ran his hand down her hair, frowning slightly. He was no longer in love with her, thankfully, but seeing her like this still hurt. She was his best friend at the end of the day, more than Bruce or even Rhodey. She'd stuck with his shit even when any sane woman would have fled, and this is what she got for it. "With a pom pom. You'll be on Vanity Fair's best dressed list."

She didn't look as bad as she might have. Her face was bruised, but it otherwise seemed as if she might have been asleep.

"Sorry, Pep," he murmured. "He was just trying to fuck with me, and you got screwed over."

"It was not my intention." He jolted at the familiar voice. Loki seemed to swallow up the darkness in the room as he appeared, but then the shadows fell back down and reality was restored. Tony was on his feet in an instant, fists raised and stance defensive. "Don't," The demi-god muttered, eyes falling onto Pepper. "Without the Iron Man suit, you cannot hope to fight me."

"Then give it back." Tony ground out, shifting so that he was in front of Pepper.

"Why?" Loki returned, raising an eyebrow as he moved forward. Tony tensed, but the man still didn't show any signs of violence. He seemed subdued, almost. "As it is, you are simply a civilian. All that you'd created is lost to you, and any attempts to create again will take more time than you have. I did not come to fight."

"You keep saying that, but then you blow up my tower. Almost fifty people died, you know. And double that are in the hospital-"

"Including Miss Potts." Loki finished, gesturing towards the bed-prone CEO. Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Touch her and I won't need the suit." Loki smirked, and reappeared directly beside her. Almost as if he just wanted to be contrary, he poked her shoulder.

"You were saying?" Tony wasn't dumb enough to storm him, so he could only let his threat fizzle out. Especially since Loki was so close to Pepper.

"Don't hurt her."

"I wasn't intending to," Loki answered, laying a hand upon her forehead. It glowed an ominous green that made every hair on Tony's body stand at attention. "Her injuries occurred purely by accident, I assure you. A miscalculation on my part, and one I seek to rectify. It was never my intention to hurt those close to you."

"You murdered fifty people," Tony retorted, crossing his arms. "Do you hear how full of shit you are?" Loki removed his hand.

"Ah. You would prefer I return them to life rather than heal her?" Tony froze.

"What?"

"I suppose I should have expected as much. You are so focused on the number of people I kill, it would only make sense you would rather this." He glanced almost indifferently back at her body. "She will remain like this, you know: a corpse playing at life. She will not be healed by your machines or by time. She is too badly scarred."

"You could save her?" Loki smirked.

"Of course. I _am_ a god."

"Maybe the god of assholery. Why can't you just save all of them?" Loki shrugged.

"Why save any at all? Arbitrary. It is up to you whether I do anything. I suppose you want me to let her remain like this. Nearly fifty did you say? My." He began to move towards the door. Logically, Tony knew that he wouldn't exit that way anyway. That this was a little bit of theatrics.

But the larger part of his mind was more concerned with the fact that Pepper could be safe.

"Fix her."

"She will be as she was that morn, without knowledge of the attack or anything immediately preceding it." Loki told him, already moving back. "But what of the others?"

"Others." Tony repeated dumbly, watching with nervous excitement as Loki placed a green palm on her forehead. It cast her face in a weird light, making her seem ages older than she was.

"The fifty that died in the attack, Anthony." He sounded amused. Tony knew he couldn't rationalize it beyond _it's Pepper_. Loki's tone made him want to try. But he really didn't have any ammo, so he remained quiet. The heart monitor beeped with increasing urgency, before flat-lining. Tony's own heart skipped a beat as Pepper's remained still. Just as he was about to rip Loki's head from his shoulders, the beeping resumed, slow and steady.

When the god removed his hand, her face was bruise-free. She looked young again, and he knew instinctively that, this time, she really was just sleeping.

"It is done," Loki said unnecessarily. He stumbled back, and Tony felt an involuntary pang of worry for him.

"Are you alright?"

"The spell takes more energy that I usually care to expend," he explained, waving a careless hand. "It's easier to destroy than mend." Tony understood that. He nodded numbly.

"She's okay?" Loki nodded. "Why?"

"Why?" The demi-god chuckled slightly. "Haven't I already explained myself? I never meant to harm her. I understand her importance to you."

"And why should that matter?" Tony demanded, confusion and relief swallowing up what little common sense he had left. Loki smirked at his direction.

"For one so brilliant, I think there is truly something lacking."

"I make up for it with looks," Tony answered flippantly, eyes flickering back to Pepper. When they returned to Loki, the man looked heavily amused.

"Doubtlessly." Before Tony could even begin to understand what that meant, Loki had already begun to speak again. "I would like to extend an invitation."

"To what?" Loki ignored the question.

"I am unsure whether this custom exists here, but on Asgard we held in high esteem the concepts of honor and debt."

"On Earth we sign a contract first. I don't owe you anything." Tony crossed his arms to emphasize the point. Loki didn't seem offended or surprised- he simply smirked.

"I am not asking for your soul, Anthony. Simply a night."

"A night?" Tony repeated. Loki nodded.

"I wish to speak with you. Tomorrow evening. If you are in Central Park, I shall find you, and you and I will have a long overdue conversation. Should you remain elsewhere, I will consider our business regarding this concluded and will not bring it up again."

"Why can't we just talk here?" Loki raised an eyebrow, and, as if on cue, Pepper shifted. Tony ceded to that point and chose another approach."Why tomorrow? I might have plans. I'm a social creature, you know."

"The longer I wait, the more likely it is that you will create another technological marvel with which you'll try to best me. Not that you'll succeed, but I would enjoy a civil night out. I tend to find that having more power than my conversational partner allows me such civility."

"You realize that's messed up." Loki shrugged a shoulder, the motion saying, '_Yeah, but what'll you do? I'm one fucked up individual_'. Tony frowned, metaphorical gears turning. Technically, he'd already given in. Curiosity was one of his vices, and being invited out for a night on the town by the God of Mischief was enough to pique it. Sure, it was dangerous and dumb, but if the God of Lies says it's gonna be a civil night, why should he doubt him?

"Fine," he finally said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "But if you kill me, I'll be really fucking pissed."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Loki answered, his lips curled up in an honest-to-gods grin. None of that smirking shit- he looked _happy_. It gave Tony a weird feeling, but he ignored it in favor of asking another question.

"What time?"

"Let us say eight."

"Okay, let's." Tony agreed. He glanced towards Pepper as she shifted again. When he looked back up, Loki was gone. The shadows seemed just a bit more thick.

"...let's what? Tony?" She sounded as if she hadn't had a drink in thirty years, and Tony felt as if he needed one. He scrambled to her side, sliding her hand into his own.

"Hey, Pep," he greeted, grinning at her bleary eyes. "Welcome back. How was Oz?"

"The great and powerful wizard was a fraud," she answered tiredly. "-and you had a heart all along."

* * *

I think the next chapter is definitely gonna be Loki-heavy. I'm thinking that I'll probably have some of it be from Loki's POV for a first, just to explain some stuff. There's also a scene required that Tony won't be around for, and so I'll need a different narrator. I'm kinda looking forward to having someone acknowledge the Frostiron aspect of the story _finally_.

We're at long last getting down to romance! 12 chapters in and they're still enemies- that's kinda ridiculous. Glad you've stuck with me!


	13. Chapter 13

I've had this finished for ages, but wasn't sure whether I wanted to post it. I've actually got the next chapter written, too, so expect an update soon!

And thanks, of course, for the reviews/favs/and everything. Checking reviews today and seeing that you guys were still with me actually made me post this.

* * *

-Chapter 13-

Loki frowned down at the mask, poking it with his index finger. The metal dented without much force, and he resisted a scowl. Despite his ingenuity, Stark worked with purely Midgardian tools. Had he a greater stock with which to work, his weapons would doubtless be formidable. But, as they were, Skurge would have had little trouble disabling him. Killing him, probably, as the oaf had no taste for instructions not given to him by his lover.

He tossed the faceplate to the ground, glancing towards his captive with little interest. Amora had tried to reach him several times since her escape, but he had no intention of replying until he had dealt with the matter at hand. The Avengers- namely his brother and the Hulk- needed to be handled. The faster the better- knowing Stark, the inventor had probably begun working again already. The theft of his tools and his equipment would not stop a mind like his.

But Loki did not intend to _stop_ the man's mind. He simply needed to keep him away from the battlefield until the other Avengers had been finished. SHIELD would not present much of a problem- especially with the program from Stark's computer- and Midgard as a whole had only archaic weapons from there on out to fend him off. It would be a quick surrender, and an easy victory.

Loki resisted the smile.

And he would be seeing Stark within a few hours. Voluntarily. Without having to trespass, or disable his machinery, or use magic. Stark had _agreed_ to see him, with no ultimatum or promised injury.

It was becoming harder not to smile.

"Brother!" And, just like that, it was easy.

"Thor," he acknowledged, turning. It seemed this place was not as blind to Heimdall's eyes as he'd thought. "What brings you here?" He was expecting, perhaps, a fight. A bid to come back to Asgard, to face his punishment. Or at least a request for Skurge.

He did _not_ expect the blinding grin.

"Thor?" He repeated, eyebrows raising. Perhaps Thor had been somehow bewitched by Amora. He couldn't very well kill him like this, could he? He would have to break the spell and return the foolish prince to Midgard. Preferably somewhere where they did not recognize him and would treat him as if he were mad. He could temporarily mute the Allspeak, and make Thor rely solely on his wits.

That...would be amusing.

But no, he had no time for tricks. Best to kill him now. He had the benefit of a familiar territory to do battle on, and could release Skurge if his fortune looked dim.

Except Thor was still just grinning.

"Is there something you would like?" He finally demanded, crossing his arms instead of assuming an offensive position. Most of all, he wished to know what was happening.

"I know, brother," Thor declared, voice booming and utterly gleeful.

"There is little you know, Odinson, but I still require _some_ specifications." The oaf didn't appear insulted.

"I _know_," he insisted meaningfully. "I have been searching for you for several days. I can promise that I will not relay your location- not when I know what your business of late has become." Loki raised an eyebrow. Was Thor referring to the attack? Wouldn't he be angry, then? He had always seemed fond of mortals. It was another way in which they'd always differed.

Well. Until recently.

"Perhaps a bit more of an elaboration," he drawled.

"Brother," Thor stated, eyebrows drawn together as they always were when he played at seriousness. "I saw your knife."

"My-" He broke off, eyes widening without his permission. He quickly sculpted his face into neutrality. "I have many."

"Brother." He sounded almost annoyed, as if Loki's refusal to admit to the truth were personally offending him. Perhaps it was. Despite the long period of estrangement, the man still considered them brothers. Deceit affronted him as dearly now as it had in the past. Which was ridiculous, of course, considering Loki's nature.

"I admit it," Loki said at last. "-I threatened Stark. But is it truly anything new, _brother_? I don't understand what part of this astounds you so greatly that you sought me out." Thor chuckled lightly. A part of Loki hurt at the familiar sound. He had, in some distant part of his mind, thought the sound lost to him. That Thor could enjoy easy humor in his company despite their rivalry was almost comforting.

But mostly annoying.

"What is so humorous?" He hissed. Thor heaved Mjölnir up, and let it hang over his shoulder. Loki could almost feel the weight upon his chest, and stiffened. Thor didn't seem to notice; he smiled and appeared completely at ease.

"Brother, you think me a fool."

"True enough."

"But I am not so foolish as you think." That knowing smile stayed affixed upon his face, and Loki felt the breath leave him.

"You think-? You think-" He sputtered for a moment, wondering how his addlebrained dolt of a brother had deduced the truth before the intelligent and cunning mortal had. It was inconceivable. Utterly incomprehensible. "I-" Thor was still amused. Still silent. Loki deflated. "Pray tell me you did not speak to him."

"I spoke highly of you!" Thor insisted, and Loki felt the beginnings of a blush. He, who had prevailed through that insufferable indignity by the dwarves, who had worn a muzzle after his initial defeat in New York City, who had spent _years_ of his existence among Thor's brethren without a cheek so much as pink, felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. Rage too, naturally, but it felt almost insignificant beside the all-consuming humiliation.

_He knows_. His heart seemed to beat with the words. Had Stark known when he extended the invitation? Naturally. He was most likely mocking him.

Unless he felt similarly? Perhaps that was why he had accepted?

"He knows, then?" His voice felt distant. Thor smiled kindly.

"Nay. That is a truth you must share yourself, brother. I only sought to make him think of you as I do."

"As a brother?" Loki muttered, brushing a hand through his hair. Stark was unaware. Good. It would not do for Thor to be the reason he understood. He had, after all, been planning on explaining this evening. Knowing Thor, the words would have been muddled. Stark would have been utterly confused by that dullard's explanation. Even _his_ intellect could not hope to stand against the Prince of Asgard's twisted tongue.

"Not as an enemy," Thor corrected gently, taking the liberty to move closer. Loki supposed he must have stopped looking threatening. Perhaps he appeared more as a love-torn weakling. He scowled, and quickly drew his staff from the table.

"Step no closer," he instructed. "-I have no interest in fighting if that was not the cause of your visit."

"Fighting is never the force behind my engagements with you," Thor murmured quietly. Hurt, of course, because he _was_ a weakling ruled by emotion. Loki would not become that. He was too smart. He would remain in control, as he had been ever since he'd first discovered his... _affections_. "Do you intend to tell him? He has little idea. He still firmly believes you wish to see him dead."

"Indeed?" Loki asked, smirking. Stark had always amused him in that way. Despite the numerous times he had come upon him without violence, the man continuously believed the worst of him. Part of him lamented this fact, and wished that Stark were more comfortable in his presence. The other part was well aware that fear was a feeling. As long as Stark feared him, he felt something towards him.

Tonight would decide whether that was all Loki had.

"His relationship with Lady Potts has ended," Thor continued. "I see no reason for complexity."

"That is because you see no reason in general," Loki replied, rolling his eyes. "Courtship on Midgard is different from the rituals on Asgard. You must also take into account," he added, almost languidly. "-that I am an enemy. I have threatened his realm often."

"You could stop?" Thor offered. He didn't seem too attached to the idea, however, and the grin he wore suggested it was a joke.

"I could," Loki agreed. "-but I have already stolen Skurge, and it would seem a waste to dispose of my depravity in the midst of a scheme." Thor glanced to his right, as if he had only just noticed the creature.

"Why _have_ you taken him?" He wondered.

"Oh, you shall see soon enough," Loki promised with a low chuckle.

"And if Stark is harmed?" Thor pressed. "He is a mortal, Loki. He will not heal simply because you wish him to. He is a warrior, and may very well die because of your actions."

"He will not," Loki informed him. "I have taken measures to assure this." Thor raised a questioning eyebrow, and the god laughed. "That would be telling, brother."

"I do not mind missing the surprise," he answered, frowning once more at Skurge. "He is sick."

"He was," Loki corrected. "He has healed."

"And this is your doing?"

"The healing or the sickness?"

"I will assume both." Loki shrugged. It was true, of course. When the decision to steal everything Stark had to fight with came upon him, he was well aware it would be an explosive affair. Infecting Stark with a sickness that would keep him bedridden until he was moved had been an easy necessity. Keeping him from any sort of work was also, of course, quite important- the man was too brilliant to be given free range. Not when one is attempting to corral him into safety.

When he learned Stark had been admitted to a hospital, it was with little discretion that he broke into his home. The Avengers were scattered and weak, and it did not take great effort to steal everything that Stark might use in battle. The virus that had stumped SHIELD programmers swept through to their own holds on Stark's technology. While it might not have held its own against his original (and exceedingly formidable) security parameters, the SHIELD monitoring tabs had presented a less obstacle-laden path.

With all information in all of his homes taken except Jarvis (the AI, like the robots, was special to the engineer- he made sure that it was not damaged, although any information regarding his work was removed) and all of his weapons stolen, Loki had assured that Stark would not take part in any battles in the near future.

As he'd said, Stark was now simply a civilian. An intelligent, _brilliant_ one- but a civilian nonetheless.

(And civilians of such high importance are not placed into danger lightly.)

"It is possible," was all he said. Thor frowned slightly.

"I do not understand you. How is his being ill of any benefit to you?" Loki shrugged a single shoulder.

"Perhaps I do not care for him after all. Perhaps this is a game." Thor shook his head.

"I said that I did not understand you. I still _know_ you." Loki glared at the ground.

"Perhaps not so well as you thought."

"In this matter? I have little doubt." Loki glanced up, lips thin.

"A true compliment, Odinson. But have you not great matters to attend to? Unless you wish to do battle this day, I suggest you leave."

"I never intended to fight." Thor promised, letting Mjölnir fall and hang limply at his side. "I do have a query," he murmured, slowing as he turned to exit.

"I tremble with the suspense of it all." Loki assured him, contempt painting his tone.

"Why Stark?" Thor asked, turning slightly. His blue eyes were piercing. At their mercy, Loki found himself telling the truth.

"How could it be anyone else?"

* * *

"Her bruises are gone."

"Yeah," Tony agreed, grinning again at Pepper. The doctor seemed at a loss.

"They...well, they should be there."

"She's always been a fast healer," Tony told him with a laugh. Pepper, too exhausted to join in, simply beamed. Tony had been in a great mood all morning. He'd watched her sleep after she resumed, and had absolutely bathed in her smile when she woke up. He hadn't even thought to call a doctor (what's the point? She's fine!) until the guy had wandered in with a chart.

He'd been, well, surprised.

"Mr. Stark, she was in a coma last night." Tony nodded jubilantly. "I don't understand."

"I think it's probably confidential," he informed him, before nodding towards the hall. "You should probably go. I invited over secret agents and superheroes, and we've already got a doctor in the bunch, so, no offense, you're redundant."

"You invited them here?" Pepper demanded, pulling her sheet up to her chin as if scandalized. "Shouldn't you be having meetings in rooms?"

"This is a room," Tony retorted. "And last time I left you alone, you got blown up."

"Pretty much every time I leave you alone you get blown up." She accused. But she didn't put up any more of a fight, so Tony figured she was pleased he'd chosen to stay. The doctor, perhaps sensing that he was outvoted, shook his head incredulously and left. Pepper frowned after him. "He doesn't look happy, Tony."

"I'll leave a good tip."

"You don't leave tips for doctors."

"That doesn't seem fair. What about the nurses that bring food? Because that's literally waiting on top of taking care of sick people. They should get at least 15 percent, right?"

"You're rich. You can afford twenty." Tony tapped his tray, and the jell-o wobbled nervously.

"This isn't worth a twenty percent tip. Tell her to-"

"Pepper?" Their heads spun. Natasha's eyes were narrow as she stood in the doorway, and Clint looked equally surprised.

"So. You're awake," he observed, stealing the seat in the corner.

"Explanation." Natasha demanded. Clint rolled his eyes.

"She means, 'Glad to see you're well'." The secret agent sent him a harsh look.

"I mean, 'Explanation'. You don't have a single bruise, Pepper. What happened?" Pepper's eyes slid onto Tony.

"I'm actually not sure. I don't really remember why I'm in here. Tony told me there was an explosion at Stark Tower after I dropped him off at the hospital."

"You were in a coma," Natasha informed her bluntly. "Expected to remain in it for some time. The damage to the brain was not minimal." Even Clint was looking suspicious. As suspicious as a person could look lounging in a chair eating (stolen) jell-o.

"I woke up last night," Pepper offered, glancing again at the engineer. "-with Tony."

"Tony?" Clint asked past flecks of green. Tony nodded a little. Truth time.

"Loki." The atmosphere in the room instantly changed. Clint's jell-o was forgotten, Natasha's bare remains of civility were replaced by professionalism, and Pepper was pushing her back against the wall to sit upright.

"Loki?" She repeated, eyebrows curving up. "What about him?"

"He was here." Tony admitted. "Showed up last night. He fixed you."

"Fixed me? Jesus, Tony, he probably- oh my god, I'm probably-" Pepper was patting her body, probably searching for abnormalities. Tony wondered absently what she would look like with a tail. While he decided she would probably work it, Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Why."

"He said he hadn't meant to hurt her. He said he knew she was important to me."

"What, are you guys BFFs now?" Clint's joke had a hard edge of something Tony couldn't really identify.

"Yeah, but I left my bracelet at home," he retorted, scowling.

"Stark." Natasha snapped. He glanced at her, confused but angry. "We need to know whether something is happening between you and Loki."

"I'm more into buff guys," he joked, glaring at her obvious distrust.

"Tony, the guy blew up your building an hour after you left it," Clint reminded him. Tony waved his hands emphatically.

"Yeah. He blew up _my_ building!" How was this a difficult concept? "Not Hammer's, not Barret's, mine. If we were partners in evil, don't you think we'd choose a better location than my fucking house?"

"Maybe you're moving in together," Clint offered, the smirk still strained. But it was a peace offering in the world of snark. Natasha, however, wasn't as easily convinced.

"You've been in multiple situations wherein Loki had an opportunity to kill you and didn't. You said yourself that he tried to get you to join him."

"We all remember the part where I said 'thanks but no thanks', right?" He replied. "It's not my fault he doesn't want to kill me."

"And the knife?" He straightened. That fucking knife. But how did they know about it?

Unless.

Unless he was sick and never put it away because fucking Thor had him locked in his room and he had babysitters for days until he was stuffed into a hospital against his will at which point his penthouse was blown to bits and his ex-girlfriend thrown into a coma that she was removed from by the same guy that left the fucking knife that was probably still on his coffee table (assuming his coffee table wasn't completely destroyed).

Admittedly, the knife was incriminating.

"I got it from him."

"And Fury doesn't have it because...?" Clint questioned, sitting straight now. The half-eaten jell-o remained very still.

"Because he doesn't get to take my stuff?" Tony offered, glaring. "You know it'd grow dust under his lame-ass scientists anyway. I've been testing it. Y'know. Fight against evil? It requires homework."

"And when did you take it?" Natasha pressed, and Tony resisted the urge to squirm. He suddenly regretted having this meeting (which really shouldn't have been about him) with Pepper present.

"At the fight earlier this week. He tried stabbing me with it, so I figured it was probably mine to keep."

"Repeat your answer," Nastaha instructed. "-remembering that I'm trained to recognize when someone is lying. And that your tells aren't subtle." Tony scowled, crossing his arms. He opened his mouth to reply, but Pepper beat him to it.

"Are you seriously suggesting Tony is in cahoots with Loki? You know that's ridiculous? He wouldn't last a minute with him. Their egos are too similar in size. And he would never betray his team like that." Her face had already grown red. Tony was suddenly thankful that the meeting was here. Because of course Pep would defend him. She was better than all the lawyers on his legal team- because she actually believed he didn't do half the shit he was accused of. "These are just coincidences. Or Loki is trying to manipulate you guys against each other. But the answer is definitely not that Tony decided to go evil because of some mid-life crisis." Tony glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought Iron Man was my mid-life crisis?" She smiled at him, perhaps seeing the gratitude in his eyes.

"You have many."

"Pepper, I'm sorry, but you could be compromised." Pepper raised an eyebrow, the right side of her mouth twisting down in displeasure.

"Excuse me?"

"If Loki affected your physiology, who's to say he didn't change something else?"

"I'm fine," she denied, but Natasha was already pulling a device out of her pocket.

"We'll have to keep you both under observation for at least a 24-hour period."

"What?" Tony demanded, scowling. Clint frowned at him apologetically.

"Don't worry, man. We'll use the time to make sure she's okay. Nothing uncouth." Tony couldn't work up the smirk.

"Couth-ness isn't actually my main concern," he retorted. "She just woke up. This isn't necessary."

"It is," Natasha told him without preamble. Her professionalism couldn't quite hide the concern in her eyes. She and Pepper had gotten along well ever since the Palladium incident. And, well, Tony liked to think she was a little fond of him, too. But the fact that there was genuine worry behind the actions didn't make him feel any better. Somehow, it just made him feel worse.

"You can't make me." He announced. "I have plans."

"What, with your boy-toy Loki?" Another attempt at light-heartedness. Clint had never been comfortable with seriousness, especially in situations like this. Tony raised his eyebrows at him, and almost savored the look of incredulous disbelief as he replied,

"Well..."

* * *

"You know how this sounds." Tony simply glared over the table, chin resting on his palm. He was exhausted, frustrated, and generally unable to believe he had been in a fantastic mood a few hours before. Fury did, to his credit, appear halfway sympathetic. But he also seemed incredibly skeptical. Tony relented.

"I do," he admitted. "-but it's not like I'm lying to you."

"For once," Fury returned, referring to his earlier omissions. Tony scowled.

"It was a busy week. Excuse me if I forget to phone in every time a supervillain threatens me. It's not really novel anymore."

"Except he wasn't threatening you, was he?" Fury replied, strolling around the room with his hands behind his back. "If he'd been threatening you, you would've reported it. I want to know exactly what happened between you and Loki."

"What, who was on bottom?" Tony leered. Fury twisted with a narrowed eye.

"I want you to be serious, Stark. I'm not treating this with the immediate action others might feel it deserves."

"Trust me, your lectures are equivalent to corporal punishment." Tony muttered. "Forget sensory deprivation, hello common sense deprivation. Why would I team up with Loki? What has he got that I haven't? It'd be bad business. I doubt Stark Industries would flourish under a monarchy."

"I've heard Loki can be persuasive." Tony sighed tiredly.

"Not that persuasive. Can I go now? Has my innocence been assured?"

"Not even close." The director replied, finally sitting in his chair. "You've kept things from this organization, Stark. Loki cures your sweetheart, he makes sure you're out of harm's way, fights you but never kills you. I don't think you're a threat to your country, Stark. But I think Loki is trying to make you one." Tony leaned forward, the chair squeaking beneath him.

"And you know what happens when people try to make me do something." Fury wasn't impressed.

"And you know what happens when a superpower wins a war. They take the smart ones."

"Loki hasn't won," Tony scoffed. Fury shrugged.

"He got Skurge. He blew up your tower, and sent a message to New York- to the _world_- that the Avengers can't handle him. He might not have won the war, but he sure as shit has a few battles under his belt." Tony shifted back in his chair, crossing his arms. He'd never cared for power plays, and Fury played them more often than even Howard had. "And now you're supposed to be meeting up for a rendezvous."

"He invited me. What, was I supposed to say, 'no'? You know I'm a manners-minded role model." Fury clasped his hands together.

"Theoretically, this meeting could give us information. It could turn the tides." His tone wasn't optimistic.

"...but?"

"If you were Romanoff or Barton or Rogers or even Banner, there wouldn't be a 'but'. But under the current circumstances, you're not going." For some reason, Tony's stomach reacted unfavorably to this. It was, he decided, probably because Fury was trying to force his authority down the engineer's throat. That didn't really explain the disappointment, but it did explain his anger.

"You can't pick and choose who I'm friends with, Mom," he replied. "-I'm gonna sleep over at Loki's house even if you don't drop me off." Fury wasn't amused.

"You'll be under lockdown on SHIELD premises until we feel comfortable regarding your mental state." Tony snorted. "You'll be under observation by several SHIELD psychologists who are familiar with your files, as well as Agent Romanoff." Tony scowled.

"I'm not staying here," he informed him. "In case SHIELD's training academy skimmed through this chapter, citizens have rights. I don't have to stay here. And I'm high-profile. People will notice if I'm missing." Fury raised an eyebrow. His expression sent a shiver down Tony's spine.

"SHIELD has ways of making disappearances reasonable. And your rights only extend so far. It's expected that you'll willingly stay- it would make everything easier for everyone. But if you decide to be difficult-"

"It's in my nature."

"-then I have ways of making you cooperate. I'd rather not," he added, sounding genuine. "-but if you're compromised, letting you wander around meeting up with terrorist gods would be a poor execution of my position." Tony understood that logically. But he hadn't quite gotten over being pissed about Fury's actions, and he'd never responded well to authoritative figures flexing their metaphorical muscles (although Fury had some big ass literal biceps).

"I'm not compromised. And I'm not gonna stay at Casa de Paranoid because you think I've been brainwashed or some shit."

"You wouldn't be my first agent gone involuntarily rogue," Fury reminded him, wrinkles etching weariness into his face. "-and I don't want to risk your going AWOL."

"Understandable. I'm excellent company. What about Pepper?"

"She would've stayed at the hospital for another day anyway. We're running tests to make sure all cognitive functions are working normally, and that her personality hasn't been altered in any significant way. We're focusing on keeping her safe, just like you."

"Because you did so well last time." The dig wasn't very fair, but then, neither was keeping a citizen on lockdown for 24 hours against their will. Fury sat back, his frown deep.

"So will you be debriefing like a good boy?"

"That sentence is grounds for a sexual harassment suit," Tony answered. "-and in case my threat of litigation didn't make it clear, the answer is 'no'. I've told you everything, and the only reason I didn't mention his other visit-" Because of course Natasha had known about that, and there was another notch in the 'Tony is guilty' column. "-was because I was drunk. I don't remember what happened." A lie, yes, but fuck, he didn't want to talk about that night. "And I kept the knife because your scientists suck. There. Mystery solved. Did you want my freedom in a plastic or paper bag?" Fury didn't sigh heavily, but the look in his eyes suggested he wanted to.

"You'll be escorted to your room." Tony winked.

"Ooh, escorts."

* * *

The room was sparse but bearable. Tony would never mind roughing it since his stint in Afghanistan- as long as there were indoor plumbing, he was officially satisfied. But a working toilet wasn't helping with the boredom. Because he was apparently Loki in disguise, or brainwashed, he wasn't allowed access to any technology. The lack of even basic cable (less because he was a threat and more because he pissed off Fury) meant that his only source of entertainment came from lying on his back and staring at the blinking light on the camera.

Silence had bothered him ever since he got back. He didn't mention it to Pepper (or, by extension, anyone), but the stillness unnerved him. He turned onto his side, forcing his brain to work overtime so that he could ignore the quiet.

He was annoyed that he couldn't meet up with Loki. He was even more annoyed that he couldn't explain himself- the demi-god probably thought that he'd backed out because of fear or rationality. And since he was completely willing to go, that was unacceptable.

"Can I have a magazine at least?" He groaned, assuming (rightfully) that the surveillance systems captured sound. No one bothered listening, however, despite the camera's capabilities. He was doomed to tedium. "I'm willing to read the articles."

* * *

Loki pursed his lips.

It would seem Stark had changed his mind.

A burst of magic hissed within him, an alarm that his security at the cave had been breached. The mystical signature was, unfortunately, quite familiar. Amora, come to retrieve her darling minion.

Loki allowed himself one last wandering gaze to the park grounds, before vanishing to dispose of the sorceress.

* * *

Sorry, guys. You were expecting a date with awkwardness and fluff, and you get this instead. Assuming I post the chapter that I've already written, however, I can promise that they'll be seeing each other again very soon.


	14. Chapter 14

I know, I know, I'm terrible, I suck. But because you guys were so patient, here's an extra long chapter. At over 6,000 words, it's the longest one yet.  
And you can mainly thank finals week for getting me to finish/upload it.

Gonna see Iron Man 3 this weekend, and that'll probably get me on track again. Thanks for sticking with me!

* * *

-Chapter 14-

"You've already been cleared?" Tony didn't bother trying to hide the jealousy from his tone. Even if he had, he knew Pepper would have heard it anyway. She shrugged.

"I passed all their tests, and they know I have a company to run. I can't be blamed for all the trouble you cause." She smiled as he harrumphed, then continued. "He assigned a few agents to follow me around, but asked me to come talk to you before I'm released."

"Yay visitor hour. You believe that I'm not a sociopath trying to take over the world, right?" She smirked and sat beside him on the bed.

"You _were_ only going to give that nurse fifteen percent." Tony snorted under his breath, and rested his head against his pillow. She sighed a little. "Tony, Director Fury told me that you weren't cooperating." He rolled his eyes.

"Of course I'm cooperating. When do I not cooperate?"

"I can't have you held up in a government facility forever. Boardmembers are actually really fond of gossiping when you're the subject, and you know how Franklin gets." Tony scoffed.

"He won't try anything. You're CEO again, remember?" She rolled her eyes.

"I don't want to be. It was only supposed to be temporary, remember? Until the Avengers were figured out?"

"Well, I'm in superjail. Does it look figured out?"

"It could be figured out."

"Enlighten me, Pep. But do it without using the word 'cooperate'." She rolled her eyes, amusement battling frustration.

"Why can't you just explain? We both know you're not working with Loki. Can't you tell them anything new to make them believe it?" He shrugged.

"Fury will get over it. I told him everything anyway."

"Everything." He raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"Ish."

"Ish does not count," she chastised. She didn't look too worried either, though, so he assumed Fury had told her his feelings on the matter. It was probably the council getting antsy again. Politics in general annoyed him, but politics that focused on making his life harder were the worst. He wondered absently if he could buy them out, somehow. He could probably focus more on donating to Super PACs that represented politicians that could usurp the thrones of those pests. Pep had always said he should become more involved in government work that didn't involve robotic suits. "Tony." Her expression suggested this was the second or third time she'd said his name.

"Listening," he answered, eyes flickering from the ceiling to make contact with hers.

"Why did Loki...why am I okay?" He shifted slightly, then decided to be honest.

"I'm not sure. I'm trying to figure it out. I'm _gonna_ figure it out." A pause, and she began to move towards the door. "Do you...I mean, do you feel okay?" She hesitated, one hand hovering above the button that would call over guards to let her out.

"Better than ever. Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"Unless you wanna break me out, that'll be all, Ms. Potts."

* * *

Tony was bored for another few hours until the door opened. He expected Pepper at first, and wondered why she had returned so soon.

If it were Pepper, she was wearing an incredibly realistic Captain America costume.

"We have to go."

"'Go'?" Tony repeated. "I'm a threat to national security. I'm Loki in disguise. I can't leave."

"You're not," Steve answered past a disapproving frown. "But the Avengers are needed. Amora and Skurge are fighting Loki downtown."

"What?" Tony demanded, leaping to his feet.

"You have to move to a more secure location so that people can still watch you. Come on."

"'Watch me'." Tony repeated gruffly, following Rogers into the hall. He wasn't about to slow down the Captain during a situation wherein time was important, but that didn't mean he was going to forgo complaints. "You realize I am a fully-functional adult?"

"It's debatable," he answered. In his natural habitat of high-stress situations, Rogers had always been quick with retorts. "You'll be on the Helicarrier. We'll meet you there after the fight."

"At which point we'll discuss my release, and what I'll be collecting for the emotional damage I've allocated by staying in that room for two days."

"One and a half." Rogers corrected, leading him outside. Tony couldn't help but glance at the sky before leaping into the waiting helicopter. "I'll meet you there."

* * *

In the end, Rogers _didn't_ meet Tony there. At least, not immediately. He was taken directly to the medical wing. Luckily, it was just for a little gash on his leg. No permanent damage, nothing serious. And he was the only one on the team even that hurt.

Tony knew it could've been worse.

The others seemed to share the sentiment.

"Maybe Skruge'll stay put longer than his girlfriend," Clint optimistically suggested. Amora had stayed in prison for a total of a day before disappearing. He spun in his chair, using the cast to make it spin faster. Tony wondered distantly how he'd used his bow.

"He's heavily sedated." Fury assured him, eyes gleaming with slight amusement at the archer's excess energy. "He shouldn't be causing us any trouble."

"It's comments like _that_ that make my life hard." Tony announced. "You jinx things. You're a jinx-er."

"And you're supposed to be in a private cell." Clint accused, still spinning. "I told Fury not to let you have that lock pick."

"To be fair, I promised not to use it."

"Why _is_ he here?" Natasha asked, directing the question to the director. "Has he been cleared?"

"Unofficially." Fury answered. "The Council still wants him under observation-"

"Called it." Tony crowed under his breath.

"-but I feel he needs to be here for the debriefing. And since they don't call the shots-"

"The unofficial shots."

"-I took the liberty of letting him go on a walk. On a _very_ short leash."

"Consider me choked," Tony assured him, flicking a piece of paper at Clint. The archer caught it with a smug grin even as he continued to spin, and Tony rolled his eyes, disgusted by the man's brilliant coordination. "When are we starting?"

"As soon as you're ready," Bruce answered, walking into the room with a semi-limping Steve. "Glad to see you're no longer a threat to security."

"Unofficially," Tony replied, moving so that the scientist could sit beside him. Bruce grinned, amusement radiating off of him. When his gaze moved towards Fury, however, he seemed to shrink in on himself. It was like old times, Tony thought unhappily. It seemed whatever tension still existed from the fight about Pepper had not resolved itself. Her miraculous recovery probably hadn't saved Bruce's ass in Fury's eyes either. "You're looking well."

"You cheating on me?" Clint wondered from across the table.

"Technically, _you're_ the other woman. What Bruce and I have is real, huh, sweetheart?" Bruce rolled his eyes.

"Not if you're cheating on me." Tony shrugged, and Fury decided that that was his cue to take control of the meeting again.

"Captain Rogers, status?"

"I'm fine, sir. Just a minor laceration that required a few stitches. It should be completely healed by tomorrow anyway, but the doctor wanted to make sure it wouldn't get infected." Tony swallowed the jealousy. Fucking accelerated healing.

"And the mission?"

"We were able to incapacitate and capture Skurge, but Amora and Loki remain at large."

"Do we know why they were fighting?"

"She wasn't a fan of Loki stealing her boyfriend. But you know no one can resist him when he bats his eyes, huh, Stark?" Clint broke in, sending a wicked grin at the engineer. Tony shrugged.

"Oh, like you'd be able to say 'no' to that mullet." Fury glared at them both in rapid succession, before returning his attention to Steve. Rogers seemed torn between amusement and annoyance.

"Well, like Clint said, Loki took Skurge last week before the attack. I guess Amora found his hiding place and tried taking him back."

"And do we know how she found him? Is there a way we could utilize her strategy?"

"It's probably something 'magical'." Tony answered with a scowl. "Have I mentioned I hate magic? Like, with a passion?"

"I don't think so," Bruce deadpanned

"Well, it's on record now. Put down '_fiery_ passion'. As for the magic junk, I've been working on some stuff for a while that could help us out in that department. Nothing that can negate it, but certainly cause a bit of trouble. I'm thinking that it could confuse her if she's got some sort of tracking device on Skurge. Or spell. Or whatever."

"Could you set that up here?" Natasha asked, while Fury simply watched, intrigued. Tony nodded.

"Sure. Ish. I've been focusing a bit more on that ever since Loki started showing up at my place. I figured I should have a way to confuse his magical...channels? Is that an appropriate term?" He shrugged. "The point being that it's up here-" He pointed at his head. "-and I can build something halfway decent even without my old notes."

"Do it," Fury instructed. "I'll send some agents out for the necessary materials."

"What, I don't get a field trip?" Inwardly, Tony was glad he was at least being trusted enough to build. While he didn't have the information saved anymore, it wasn't as if Jarvis had been the only one involved in the constructions. He would have to work from scratch, but at least he was allowed to work.

* * *

"Did you hear about how well I've been cooperating?"

"I hear you started behaving well once they waved a tablet under your nose," Pepper answered, smirking into the screen. Tony shrugged.

"Fury gets me. We're very close now. You missed bonding."

"Well, _you_ missed Franklin's presentation. He's interested in kicking you off the board. I managed to shut him up, but not everyone was booing."

"Oh, please. I'm the CEO. They're not gonna get rid of me."

"Except _I'm_ the CEO, and yes, they might, because you're currently being investigated for treason."

"Is that the charge? And you told them?"

"I told them you had a cold. A very bad cold which kept you from attending a Board of Directors meeting with literally billions on the line. Somehow I doubt they bought it."

"You're very believable. It's your face." He gestured towards his own face, and she broke out in a laugh.

"Well, _believe_ me when I say that you're needed at homebase. How long is this cooperation going to last?" He shrugged.

"I've just gotta revolutionize a brand new field of science. Give it a day or two. Would be a couple of hours if Loki hadn't messed me up. I was pretty much done before he decided to become a computer aficionado." He tapped at the screen beside her face, entering in codes as the majority of his focus remained on her. "You know they don't let me have Jarvis down here?"

"I'll tell him you miss him. Gotta go. Have fun revolutionizing science."

"I will," he promised, turning off his own camera.

His program was less than stellar. It didn't include the data he'd been collecting for months, and was pretty much all theoretical as a result. He needed a magical signature to follow. How were you supposed to make a trail if you didn't even have a compass?

At this rate, he would be lucky if it managed to hone in on a pack of tarot cards.

"How's it going?" Tony raised an eyebrow as Bruce entered.

"Sucky. How's the free life?"

"Expensive." Bruce handed him a bag. "I got you extra egg rolls. No progress?"

"Some," Tony admitted, ripping open the bag. He'd only had SHIELD's approved meals for almost a week now. Figures Bruce would know what he was hankering for. "-I would kill for a sample of Loki's signature. The suit kept an eye out for it, but Jarvis has been wiped of it. No memory at all."

"What about Skurge?" Bruce asked, resting in the chair beside him.

"Skurge?"

"He's still here," he elaborated. "Sedated and exuding the type of radiation you're probably interested in. He might not be carrying Loki's scent, but Loki's hideout wouldn't be free of his." Tony nodded, interest and hope both increasing.

"I was thinking of making Fury a new cage anyway," he replied with a gleam in his eyes.

* * *

Skurge was helpful.

He didn't want to be, but he was. He was awake enough when Tony entered that he played the intimidation card, and it was actually pretty damn intimidating. But Tony had been dealing with intimidating people for the better part of his life, so he shrugged it off and took his measurements. As Bruce had hypothesized, Skurge had a unique radiation about him. It wasn't like Loki's (not exactly), but it was similar enough to construct a usable framework.

While the not-Jarvis computers worked to keep up with him, Tony worked on a new cell for Skurge. Amora had taught them that they needed better security. Considering Loki's interest in Skurge, it would be best to keep him under technologically advanced lock and key. And if the demi-god decided to come look before they had a chance to seek out his hiding hole, Tony could skip that part of the process and get a sample for himself.

"I know you're eager to see your boyfriend, but let's try and avoid that." Clint told him when he expressed this. "At least until my arm isn't messed up."

"Let me just build you a robotic one," Tony replied, waving a screwdriver that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Why did he have tools on his desk while coding, again? He glanced at the time. The fact that he'd been up for over twenty-four hours might have had some influence. Skurge's cell had been finished two days before, and they were almost finished with the program that would (hopefully) blur some lines for magic-users.

"Somehow I feel like you'd abuse that opportunity." Tony threw a hand over his heart, hurt and scandalized and offended and perfectly earnest in his intentions.

"Bruce, back me up." Bruce had been assisting as best as he could (although he was mainly needed for his ability to leave and pick up take-out food), and had been around more than even Clint since the project had begun. Now, he didn't even bother making eye contact as he typed something into his own computer.

"I wouldn't even let him near the cast."

"You guys...you guys are just offensive." Clint laughed and Bruce smiled softly. Even as he did so, he pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. It was only as he repressed a yawn that he seemed to notice the time.

"It's late, Tony. You should probably go to bed." Tony scoffed.

"The faster I get this done the faster I can sleep on a real mattress. My back is determined to have this done by the end of the week." Bruce snorted, and might have replied with some clever but inevitably wise and for-your-own-good comment had the alarms not gone off at that exact moment. "Those don't sound good," Tony noted, as Clint leapt to his feet.

"We've gotta get you to your room," he informed them, whipping out a gun.

"A little pushy, but I respond to that." Tony answered, following him. "What about Bruce?"

"I'll go where they tell me to," Bruce assured him. "Get some sleep, if you can." Tony snorted as they parted. The compound is going crazy, and Bruce is still trying to have him get rest. As they reached the room, Clint nodded.

"I'll let you out once we've neutralized the threat. Don't miss me too much."

"You're locking me in?" Clint raised an eyebrow, as if he'd asked something incredibly dumb. Which, since he was Tony Stark, was impossible.

Granted, sleep-deprived Tony Stark, but even that was above average.

"Bad guys can't get in if it's locked," he replied matter-of-factly, seeming to sense the weariness. Tony thought about mentioning that safes were completely safe until they weren't, but he also knew Clint was needed more elsewhere. Banter could be bantered later.

"If they get in, I'll let them know. Go save freedom with Cap."

"Since you asked so nicely." Clint replied, stabbing his thumb against the button. The door slid shut, and a series of clicks informed Tony that the latches were latched and the locks were locked, and he was once again in a tiny room with no way out.

Good thing he wasn't claustrophobic.

Well, yet. It had become easier to pick up phobias these days.

"I'll defend freedom in here," he informed no one, wishing that the alarms weren't blaring in the cell. The least they could do was-

As the sound vanished, the lights flickered. It meant something was soaking up power, and he had a terrible hunch that he knew what that something was. His program (half-cocked and not even slightly ready) had likely been implemented as a last-ditch effort. Which meant something with magic had arrived.

Either it was Loki or it was Amora. As he began pacing, trying to burn off the manic energy that had replaced the bone-aching weariness, his brain seemed to decide for him that Loki was preferable. Devil you're more familiar with. Not to mention more interesting.

But Tony had never been very lucky.

She arrived in a flurry of green and smoke, crashing into the wall with a screech of angered pain. She dragged herself up, and Tony retreated as far back as he could. He stopped just short of the wall, wishing he had his bracelets, or at least a fucking pistol. How did Clint think leaving him unarmed was a spectacular idea?

"Welcome to my humble abode," he greeted when she turned, her eyes locking onto him instantly. She stepped forward, and he (because he lived to antagonize people he shouldn't) did, too.

"You-!" She hissed suddenly, eyes bright with the fervor of rage (and recognition). Tony scrambled back as she lurched forward, nearly tripping over the bed. Amora was, usually, easy to chat up and distract. But when she was angry, it was apparent how powerful she was. There was a reason the Avengers usually passed her off to Thor. "You're the Iron Man. Tell me where Skurge is."

"I'm not really in the loop these days," he informed her, eyes swimming through the room for anything that could be a half-useful weapon. Nothing was even _pointy_.

"Tell me!" She shrieked, releasing a blast that sent him reeling. He slammed against the wall, head ringing and limbs aching. She definitely packed a wallop. She didn't even let him clamber to his feet before grabbing him by his neck and flipping him onto the bed. It wasn't a comfortable mattress when he was trying to sleep, and it was decidedly less comfortable when he was thrown onto it by an insane sorceress. "Where is he? Your machines won't let me find him!"

Well. At least he was still a genius capable of crippling crazy people's plans.

Although, he thought as she whacked his head down again, the IQ points being punched out of him might change that.

"I don't know," he managed, and she threw him to the ground. He heard something crack, and he hoped desperately that it was a limb and not a skull. The aching in his head suggested he had a concussion, but he couldn't move his left arm without a piercing pain, so it was anyone's guess.

"Liar!" She growled.

"No, actually," A smooth voice interrupted. "-That would be me." He lifted his head slightly, heart hammering, and registered Loki standing in front of the door. He wore his armor, and the atmosphere in the room changed instantly. Tony was, without question, the weakest and most vulnerable person present.

He was more annoyed than humbled. Fucking magic.

"Loki." She greeted. The pure vitriol in her tone made Tony want to climb into the corner and curl up.

"Should I leave you two alone?" He asked politely, voice carefully erased of any signs of strain. As if it weren't obvious he was out-of-play- he was still pinned under Amora's heel. Loki's eyes flickered down, then up again. Completely indifferent.

"Perhaps you did not know, Enchantress. The Man of Iron has been dismissed from his duties. You are questioning someone as ignorant as you of the matter at hand."

"You're lying." She denied.

"Likely statistically, but incorrect in this case. This is the truth. Perhaps you might like to join me, however. I might have found Skurge."

"Why are you helping me?" She demanded, still sounding skeptical. Tony blinked, then forced himself to stay away from the comforting blackness of unconsciousness. Fury would kill him if he didn't play spy. And Pepper would kill him if he sunk into a coma (she was very hypocritical that way).

Loki was smiling disarmingly.

"I am not. I am helping myself. I require your assistance in destroying the cage the mortals have created for him. It is truly formidable." Tony felt pleasure somewhere at the compliment, but it fizzled into innate fear as Amora's eyes fell onto him.

"He created it, did he not?" Loki's smile was stale.

"It is likely."

"Let's end him now. He's a threat- he's managed to compromise my ability to find Skurge, and likely yours as well if you cannot free him yourself."

"He is admittedly talented, but killing him would accomplish little. They have the technology already. " Amora's face was speculating.

"Is there any particular reason you're protecting him? What gambit are you chasing?"

"None whatsoever," Loki answered with a charming smile. "I had hoped, however, that giving you Skurge would allow me the pleasure of handling Stark's demise." Tony groaned into the carpet. They were fighting over who got to kill him. He felt like a wounded mouse between two cats. Hungry cats like Tom, and with a headache this splitting, he didn't have the energy to be as ingenious as Jerry.

"Can we just not kill me? Is that a thing we can do?"

"Silence," Amora hissed, and he felt his skin itch at the threat heavy in the order. Loki stiffened, but his eyes remained on Amora. "Why should I allow you such a pleasure, Liesmith? You have proven time and again to be untrustworthy."

"But when I am your ally, I am truly useful." She smirked, and pressed her heel down on Tony's back. He heard a crack- at least that was just a kink and not his spine. Hell, he used to pay a girl to walk on his back. This was just saving money.

"Not that useful." Loki stepped forward, and the shadows at his feet seemed to grow darker.

"I have no wish to kill you. But harm Stark, and you will watch Skurge die slowly by my hands and then suffer a slower death yourself." The foot inched deeper, and it felt as if she were standing directly on his lung.

"Do not dare threaten me lightly."

"I do not do so lightly." Loki promised darkly, and the air around his hands wavered. It reminded Tony of Afghanistan, the world shaking above the hot sand. Except that wasn't just heat haze- it was pure power that caused the air around his tight fists to grow blurred.

Amora merely smirked.

"Then we are both quite serious." Tony felt the blast that was meant to end his life, but he felt it only in the wind as it struck an inch away from his head. Amora had been shot off of his back, and he gasped in a terrified breath even as adrenaline and his fight-or-flight response (here screaming at him that he should have flown off ten minutes before) forced him to his feet. He glanced frantically over his shoulder, and felt that annoying insignificance attack his ego once more.

On the other hand- gods fighting over him. Deja vu.

How had he ever even gone toe-to-toe with Loki? The guy was insane. Every move Amora made was predicted and avoided, and her every vulnerability was attacked with ruthless efficiency. Her growing anger was making her sloppy, and Loki took advantage of it.

For the first few seconds of the insanity, it seemed as if he had an easy win.

But then Amora targeted the only weakness Loki had that he couldn't protect by pivoting: Tony. As the engineer dashed to the door, he felt himself run into an invisible wall.

"Shit-"

"Your little mortal won't live for your sword," she hissed, and Tony felt his breath leave him. The world grew spotty until, just as quickly as he'd lost them, he regained his breathing capabilities. He collapsed to his knees, heaving for breath and gasping and coughing. Loki was glaring at him, one finger raised. He was saving him then. Okay. Sure.

Why did Loki want to kill him himself, again? Just because he missed the park thing? Seemed like an overreaction.

Amora was taking advantage of Loki's distraction. They were fighting two battles- Amora trying to kill Tony and Loki, and Loki trying to keep both of them safe while trying to kill her. Unfortunately for Amora, Loki was a multi-tasker. While he fought Amora and kept Tony alive, the engineer began removing the leg from his bedside table. It wasn't a repulsor blast, but it could at least count as a bludgeoning weapon. It was metal an inch thick on all sides.

He was gonna Thor this.

The two sorcerers were still fighting. While Loki was weakening, he was still better. In just every way possible. It was intimidating, and terrifying, and fucking _awesome_ the way that he dodged every hit, and fluidly turned the defensive moves into one hell of an offensive maneuver. He was breathing through bared teeth, but otherwise there was no indication of stress- Amora, on the other hand, was screaming with every lunge.

It was obvious who the victor would be.

But Tony had no interest in indulging a gambling vice he'd long since discarded. He was gonna fix the fight. He flopped over the bed, playing up the part of useless-without-his-suit-and-not-coordinated-at-al l. The latter half was less of an act and more a concussed-enhanced characteristic of his, but the routine was pretty much ignored anyway. Amora was focused on the person in the room who was actually a threat.

Tony pulled up behind her, and swung.

Loki's eyes widened as the metal struck skull.

Amora screeched in horror and (wow, really?) pain. It didn't end the fight, but the distraction gave Loki an opening for something that would. He swung his hand down, and a wave of green sliced with it. She screamed in agony, and Tony dropped the metal in horror as she vanished in one final shriek of pain.

The last thing to disappear was the hand, its long green nails outstretched to grab at his shirt.

"Holy shit," he managed, pale. "What just happened-?"

"She's dead." Loki answered, staring at the spot on the ground where she'd stood. "Or close enough that you might consider her as such."

"I don't consider them out until I see a body." Loki's eyes flickered up and, surprisingly, an amused smile appeared.

"An excellent policy. Thank you for the assistance. I would have won regardless, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"Of course you would've won," Tony grunted. "-I just have plans that didn't include watching two assholes go at it." He paused, glanced at the door, then glanced back. "Are you appreciative enough to hold off on the killing-me thing? It's actually a really busy day." Loki laughed a little.

"Thor was correct. You truly have little insight."

"What, you and Thor get together to insult us _petty_ mortals?" Tony demanded, far too aware that Loki hadn't answered his question.

"He said you still expect me to kill you." Loki explained, glancing down at his armor. A small gesture and it was instantly cleaned of blood.

"Um, you did just say you were going to." Loki rolled his eyes, but it still seemed more fond than actually annoyed. Tony wondered when he had begun responding that way to his comments. He hadn't noticed the change.

"I am unsure whether this rumor has reached you, but I am wont to lie."

"You know what? I think I did hear that somewhere." A pounding came at the door, and Tony jolted. His body ached, Amora was dead(ish), and Loki had inexplicably saved his life. It had been a weird-ass day. As the demi-god moved, Tony stepped forward. "Wait-"

Loki did, one eyebrow arched in curiosity. His face was carefully blank, but Tony didn't wonder about that.

"I wanted to explain. About why I didn't meet you." Loki opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut.

"Go on." He said, and Tony knew it wasn't what he had been planning on saying.

"I got held up at the office," he started. "Fury locked me up for observation after you fixed Pepper, and I've been stuck here since."

"Have you." Loki murmured, brows furrowing. "You were going to come, then?"

"Of course. I don't value my life enough to skip an invite like that." Loki smiled, and it was large.

"I wish you the best of luck in escaping your babysitters, Stark. I should like to have that conversation very soon. Thank you for helping me." The moment he vanished in a cloud of green smoke, the door unlocked, and the Avengers clambered in.

"Tony-!" Clint exclaimed, eyes swirling through the room. "Where's Loki?"

"We heard his voice," Natasha added, gun drawn and eyes speculative. Tony glanced down at the floor, confused but somehow relieved. He was alive, Loki was still willing to explain, and Amora was gone.

"He left."

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, letting his shield hang limp now that the enemy was gone. "What did he want?"

"Amora was here," Tony answered truthfully. "I guess he killed her. Maybe. I dunno. Wherever she is, she's not coming back. She was gonna kill me, and he tricked her into thinking he wanted me dead. I hit her on the head-" He gestured vaguely at the discarded leg of the table. "-and he killed her." He glanced up, a smile breaking across his face. "SHIELD Enemy number two is off the list, I think. Good job, team."

"He saved your life." Clint summarized, and there was that (now familiar) sense of distrust in his expression. As if Tony were lying about something, but he wasn't sure what. But Tony wasn't. He hadn't lied about anything important since the beginning of all of this, and maybe he should have. Because Steve looked uneasy, and Natasha's face was unreadable. All very bad signs.

"Yeah," he admitted. "-but I hit Amora when they were fighting."

"You saved his life."

"He would have won either way. And he was the one less likely to murder me, so..." He trailed off, expecting common sense to lead them the way home.

"Tony, you helped Loki murder Amora." Steve stressed, confusion flickering across his face.

"What, I was just gonna let them duke it out? He was gonna win. I was saving myself, and getting on his good side."

"You're already on his good side," Steve shot out, brows now curling down. "You've been chummy with him for months."

"'Chummy'?" Tony repeated incredulously. "What are you talking about? I've got a broken arm and a concussion and I was five seconds from dying. Excuse me if I'm less than peeved at the guy that saved my life while the people that left me with that nutcase were just knocking."

"The door was locked," Clint told him, anger mixing with hurt on his face.

"Duh. _You're_ the one that locked it."

"Stark." Natasha cut in. "I'll get Fury. Stay with them."

"Am I legally obliged to?" Tony asked, glaring down at his arm. Now that his pulse was normal, he could focus on how much it hurt. _Everything_ hurt.

"Assume 'yes'." She answered, twisting on her heels to exit. Tony collapsed onto his bed, and tried to ignore the way it sagged beneath him. Broken, of course, because he'd been slammed onto it like a rag doll.

He was so sick of being regular.

Not regular, he reminded himself. He was smart. Rich. That was worth something. Even if he didn't have Thor's bulging muscles, or Steve's healing abilities, or Clint's skills, or Natasha's...well, Natasha's _everything. _It just got annoying sometimes, was all.

"Are you okay?" Steve repeated, voice softer now. He still had a crinkle between his eyebrows. He was confused, angry, but he was worried. It was one of those things Tony hated about him, but sorta appreciated sometimes. The man was a genuinely good guy.

"Fine," he grunted. "Just beat up. Again. I was playing distraction while you guys guarded Skurge." He blinked, and frowned up. "Speaking of...?"

"Bruce is down there," Steve assured him, eyes darting towards Clint almost unsurely. The archer would usually have answered. But Clint's face was still dark, his stance uneasy. Loki struck a nerve in Clint, and Tony's continued shenanigans with him were striking that nerve repeatedly. Tony wanted to feel guilty, but he just felt annoyed.

What right did Clint have to be angry when _he'd_ been the one getting ambushed by Amora? Did they not see that his arm was definitely fractured? That he definitely had a concussion? That he'd taken out Amora while they banged on the door?

Loki had fucked with Clint's head. He got that. He did. But Tony was the one getting fucked over now, and his team wasn't backing him up.

In the past, he might have lied about all of this. The truth had not set him free. In literal terms, the truth had gotten him locked up.

"Alone?" Steve shifted one shoulder.

"He has the Hulk. No one else has the firepower to stand up to Skurge if your cage doesn't hold."

"Of course it'll hold," Tony muttered. "But if Loki tries to get through it again, I'm not sure Hulk alone will be able to stop him."

"Again?" Steve questioned, arching a single brow.

"Well, yeah," Tony answered, fuzzy mind trying to understand Steve's expression. "Loki was telling Amora that he was having a hard time around my system."

"Then I guess he's a fast learner." Three heads swung to a weary-looking Fury, and a deadfaced Natasha. "Loki got Skurge." Tony didn't even have a chance to open his mouth to ask the question before Fury's eye locked onto his. "And Banner."

* * *

The ridiculousness that I'm planning for the next chapter actually has me eager to write it. Hopefully you're eager to read it.

Also, just in case it wasn't clear, Amora teleported into his room by accident. His system did succeed in making it hard for her to navigate and find her way to Skurge, and his room just happened to be where her messed-up magic brought her. As for Loki? He kinda knew where he was going. Don't forget to review and stuff. I'm a fan of them, and they're really what get me writing.


	15. Chapter 15

Well, guys, I'm back (how much do you hate me?). Saw Iron Man 3 the night it premiered, so this story is officially non-canon. But the movie was great! I was so excited when I heard Shane Black was in charge, and his touch was definitely noticeable. And despite that I loved the movie (and have already seen it three times), I still took forever getting this chapter to you. I'm a stinker, ain't I?

Anyway, you guys have been great and so incredibly patient, and I wanna thank you for your continued willingness to put up with me.

* * *

- Chapter 15 -

_"You want me to move in with you." Bruce repeated dubiously. Tony spun in his chair, tossing a screw up into the air and catching it with a flourish._

_ "Well, duh. You think I'd invite Rogers and not you?"_

_ "Steve doesn't turn into a giant rage monster." Tony shrugged, letting the chair slow. _

_ "I might like him more if he did." Bruce couldn't quite repress the smile, and Tony took it as encouragement. "Besides, don't you get sick of flying twelve hours every time we need help from this aforementioned giant rage monster? It'd be easier if you just stayed. Indefinitely, preferably, but we can sign you up for a month trial if you're that opposed to it." He made a jazz hands gesture, revealing that there was nothing hidden in his palm. "No strings attached." _

_ "My schedule is pretty busy." Bruce reminded him patiently, but Tony chose to believe he was just playing hard-to-get._

_ "Clear it. You can't pretend not to miss me. What about Dumm-e? He misses _you_." Dumm-e made a whirring sound that suggested he was truly emotionally wrecked at Bruce's absence. Typically, the scientist wasn't swayed. _

_ "I'm close to something important, Tony." Tony raised an eyebrow._

_ "Do I get details? Last I heard, you were just curing world hunger." Bruce frowned a little, then leaned closer to the camera._

_ "This line is secure?"_

_ "Of course it's secure. Who do you think I am, Fury? No one can break into my stuff, Brucie. So spill your little heart out." Bruce nodded._

_ "I might have found it."_

_ "So good at elaborating," Tony responded, although his interest was obvious. He'd stopped spinning completely now, and had eyes for nothing but the computer screen. _

_ "The cure," Bruce dutifully explained. "The rough concept for it, at least. It's been working in all of the simulations I've run, and the equa-"_

_ "You're still trying to get rid of him?" Tony interrupted. Bruce shrugged a little, avoiding eye contact._

_ "I know what you think of this. But if it weren't for him, I would have accepted your invitation months ago. I'm doing good work here, but it's nothing compared to what I could be doing with a lab and the resources you've offered. But I-"_

_"So take them," Tony insisted, waving his hand. "And for god's sake, don't shoot yourself up with anything until I've checked your math." Bruce actually laughed at that. He sounded almost relieved, and Tony wondered what reaction he'd expected._

_ "I'll visit," he agreed at last. "One month trial?"_

_ "Fine print included."_

_ "What happened to no strings attached?" _

_ "That deal left when you decided to kick out the big guy. I still say give him a chance. SHIELD did, and it paid off. He's a good guy, Bruce. Promise." Bruce's smile was wan._

_ "I'll think about it." _

_ "Good," Tony retorted, flicking his thumb up. With it came the screw, which glinted beneath the florescent lights. "We'd get our asses kicked if he weren't playing offense." _

* * *

Present

"How do you kidnap a hulk?" Tony demanded, pacing. Natasha watched him silently. Clint sat beside her, looking more tired than angry. Bruce had been missing for six hours, but those six hours had been spent with lots of yelling and not much else. The only possible lead came from Tony, who was furiously working on his program. Inwardly, the inventor knew it was a far way from finished. But he needed it to be done now, so it _should_ be done now.

"We're figuring that out." Steve assured him, frowning at the computers that were still loading sluggishly. They were trying (for the umpeenth time) to access the records of any possible spikes in radiation during the twenty-minute time span of the attack. Tony had sped through much of the work since Bruce's disappearance, but this was one aspect that he had no control over. Due to the loss of accessible power and the huge surge of magic during the attack, the computers had been affected. Badly. They simply hadn't been strong enough.

But fuck that. He was Tony goddamn Stark.

He was going to find his best friend.

* * *

"I suppose I should apologize for the trip." They were the first words Bruce heard when he regained consciousness, and it only took him a moment to surmise who had spoken them. He opened his eyes, and was unsurprised to see Loki staring back at him. "I understand it is very uncomfortable for mortals."

The last thing Bruce remembered was guarding Skurge. Something had, quite obviously, changed since then.

"Where are we?" Loki nodded slightly, as if glad to see he had regained enough of his mental faculties to ask such questions, and walked out of the scientist's line of vision.

"A safe haven. Even Heimdell cannot gaze upon this space. I have taken great measures to assure this." Bruce had listened intently to Thor's original deposition, and immediately recalled that Heimdell was the gatekeeper. The one that (supposedly) saw everything.

This erased that particular avenue of escape.

"And why am I alive?" He further inquired, sitting up. The area was relatively small, but not claustrophobic. Too small for the Hulk, certainly. Despite the fear and rage he felt, however, there were not even distant rumblings within him.

"I was not interested in killing you."

"Is this where you try to convince me to join you?" Bruce questioned with an unassuming smile, despite the growing unease. It was unnerving to be free from the Hulk's omnipresence, and (far from relieved) he felt terrified. "Are you planning on inviting all of the Avengers?"

"Only the ones I like," Loki answered lightly, smirking at him from the other side of the room. "But surely you do not believe it is that simple."

"Why is the Hulk gone?" Bruce asked bluntly, pushing his glasses up. Though the figure before him shifted into greater detail, the situation itself remained unclear.

"Not gone," Loki corrected. "Not yet. At the moment, I have succeeded only in repressing the creature. It will, however, be removed entirely within the next few days. If your next question was in relation to what I am planning on doing with you, there is your answer."

"And will you be killing me then? After you've gotten rid of him?"

"Certainly not," Loki answered swiftly.

"Why?" The god stepped carefully, and it seemed as if he were choosing his words as carefully as his steps.

"I don't wish you to be dead. Is it so odd? You will hardly be a threat without your monster."

"I won't be interesting either. So, yes, it's odd." Bruce wasn't sure why he was so determined to get a straight answer, but he felt as though he were missing something. No, he did _not_ believe it was this simple.

"Just be happy, Dr. Banner," Loki replied, walking towards an exit that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. "A few years ago, you might have called such cosmic interference a miracle."

* * *

All in all, Bruce was missing for four days. Not even a full work week, technically. For Tony, however, they dragged. He slept a total of six hours, and spent the rest of his time in a caffeine-induced haze. Every once in a while, someone would try to convince him to get rest. But their attempts were half-hearted at best. Everyone understood that Tony and Bruce were close- the scientist surpassed even Clint. Not that Clint was vying for BFF rights much lately. Tony had barely seen him since the disappearance. While he would have liked to believe the archer was just out looking for information about Bruce, he knew that there was more to it than that.

Clint was feeling uneasy around him. Suspicious. Angry.

"Bullshit," he grunted, dragging a hand down his face. No one had said anything, but there was an undercurrent within the team that it had been his fault Bruce was nabbed. It wasn't as if Tony felt differently (maybe if he'd handled the Amora situation differently, Bruce would have had back-up by the time Loki got there), but it still sucked to know he was on the shit list.

He was on the shit list, and Bruce was dead. Because where else would he be? But why? Loki hadn't been acting insane lately, right? He'd saved Pepper, and then Tony. He'd specifically claimed to not want to harm anything that was important to Tony. And Bruce was damn important.

"Bullshit." He repeated, typing and then staring blankly at the code he'd entered. The computers had, in fact, begun to cooperate, but only once they'd finally let him bring in Jarvis. The AI was a welcome sight (and had definitely sped up progress), but it still wasn't going fast enough.

"Any progress?" He turned, and Natasha was just _there_. It reminded him of Loki, but he'd been thinking too much of the god lately, so he just nodded.

"A little. I should be able to narrow it down to a few possible coordinates with a strong enough signal. Assuming he's on Earth and still radiating the same energy waves we noted from his last visit." She nodded, her expression relatively indifferent. So that hadn't been the purpose of her appearance. "What about topside?"

"No sightings of the Hulk. Fury still believes Loki aims to control him, but nothing yet."

"What about you?" Tony asked, turning back to his monitor.

"Me."

"What do you think Loki wants with Bruce?" When she remained silent, he turned his chair again to scrutinize her expression. She pursed her lips and sat on the seat beside him.

"I think something odd is happening."

"Understatement of the century," Tony observed, anxious to continue with the work but also curious. Natasha had always been the one to find those key elements that he inadvertently overlooked. Her input was always appreciated in any spectrum of SHIELD work, and Tony had learned to respect it, too.

"Loki has been acting differently." She murmured. "I was curious, so I did a small amount of research. This behavior began about a year ago."

"What behavior?" Tony questioned. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Preferential treatment of you." He snorted, but then mirrored her expression when it remained serious.

"You're going to have to explain that one. I haven't slept in a week. It has downsides. But any 'preferential treatment' began a few months ago."

"Look into it," she advised. "But as far as I can see, you started coming back from fights with him with less serious wounds. He focused more on you in them, but you still came back relatively unscathed."

"Because I'm badass." He returned, but she simply smirked and shook her head.

"Look into it." She repeated. "When will this be done?" He glanced at the computer screen and shrugged.

"Soon, actually. I should have a few locations to check out by tomorrow." When Jarvis had finally pinpointed the energy signature, Tony had fallen asleep on the spot and stayed asleep for almost two hours. He was still proud of the rest, and had made so much progress since then that he might have even answered that it was done now. But he wanted the locations narrowed down, so that Bruce would be found as quickly as possible.

"I'll inform Fury." As she began walking out, he hesitated in asking the question he'd been asking himself for days. She seemed to notice his trouble, and obligingly stopped. Maybe she was psychic, because she addressed his unasked inquiry. "If he's alive, we'll bring him home safe."

It wasn't exactly optimistic, but hearing her promise anything on the brighter side was the only reason he was able to sleep an hour that night, while the computers scanned, and scanned, and scanned.

* * *

"I'm going!"

"You're not," Fury replied flatly. "Remember, Mr. Stark, that you're officially a flight risk and under allegations of treason."

"So?" He retorted petulantly. "I found him, I'm getting him."

"You found him, and the available Avengers are retrieving him." Steve shifted uneasily at Fury's tone.

"You don't have a suit anyway, Tony," he reminded him.

"Neither do they!" Tony gestured angrily at the spies. He was in full tantrum mode, and he could practically hear Pepper's sigh.

"Do you have decades of training?" Natasha asked in clipped tones. "You're wasting time."

"You're wasting resources!" Tony shot back. "It's always better to have the resident genius with you."

"We'll have Banner in an hour," Barton replied, hiking his quiver onto his shoulder. "I'm sure he'll have it covered."

"Maybe if you get a boo-boo." Tony grumbled, upset but aware that he was (hopelessly and hilariously) outgunned. "Keep me updated."

"Of course," Natasha promised smoothly, willing to placate him. With that, the three Avengers that hadn't either disappeared or been called a threat to national security hopped into a quinjet and zoomed towards the pair of coordinates that Tony had isolated as the most likely. The engineer frowned after them, wishing he could leave the compound. Somehow he doubted that Fury would see his company as an adequate excuse to vacate the premises. But he just wanted out. He wanted to be there for Bruce.

He couldn't even imagine (didn't even want to know) what things the scientist (if he were even _alive_) had to be going through.

* * *

"Check mate." Bruce didn't bother repressing his annoyance. It wasn't like the Hulk was going to take control. And if he did, it would only mean he could escape.

"Good game," he murmured patiently, dutifully placing each piece where it belonged.

"Indeed." Loki answered, sounding as indifferent as he had the entire time they'd been playing. It seemed as though he were waiting for something, but Bruce had no idea what. All he knew was that he was being beaten thoroughly in a game he'd been an expert at since college.

"You're like Tony," he muttered, slipping a pawn into one of the squares. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Loki straighten.

"Pardon?"

"Tony," he elaborated. "Iron Man. He and I play chess, sometimes, and he always beats me." Bruce had been expecting more indifference. What he got was a smile. It was quickly discarded in favor of intense interest in helping Bruce set up for the next game.

"Do you play often?" He asked casually.

"When he's free," Bruce answered honestly. It wasn't as though this were SHIELD intel. "He sometimes plays me and Jarvis at the same time."

"His familiar?"

"His AI," Bruce corrected, taking the first move. Loki had insisted he have the advantage. Not that it had helped him garner a win.

"And does he beat you both?"

"He beats me," Bruce replied, frowning as Loki took an unassuming move that had probably already cemented his victory. "He says Jarvis only beats him because he goes easy on him." A noise startled him from his concentration, and his eyes snapped up. It sounded almost like a cough. A huff of air. But it wasn't a cough, or a scoff, or anything remotely Loki-like.

He had _laughed_.

Perhaps what made it so off-putting was that it had been a chuckle, not a cackle.

He must have noticed Bruce's disconcerted response, for he promptly straightened. Back to indifference.

"Your move."

* * *

"How long will I be staying?" It was the third day of his imprisonment. Though it wasn't a difficulty Bruce had expected, he was horrifically bored. Loki spoke only when spoken to, though it seemed as though he had something on his mind. He seemed miles away, and the only time he really interacted with Bruce was during chess. Bruce was also horrifically bored of chess.

"Hm?" Loki glanced up slightly at the question. "It should not be much longer. The creature is receding." Bruce resisted a shudder. He had been hoping to get rid of the Hulk for years, but he'd never anticipated that it would happen like this.

"I see." He frowned, shifting in the chair. Loki had, in fact, provided quite the set-up. If Bruce hadn't spent the more recent part of his life living with a billionaire, he would have felt downright pampered. The meals were exquisite, the furniture comfortable, and the sense of being captured quite underplayed. If it weren't for the occasional reminders that he was in a very renovated cave, he might have believed he could just walk out.

What he didn't understand was why Loki was being so nice to him. If he wanted the scientist to develop some sort of Stockholm Syndrome, then Bruce supposed he was being somewhat successful. Bruce only hated him in the abstract sense- he didn't feel the need to rip his head from his shoulders every time their gazes crossed. You couldn't hold onto tangible anger like that for days when those days are filled with nothing more than casual conversation and chess, especially if you've become an expert at staying calm. But even if Bruce liked him (which, it is important to note, he _didn't_), he would be of no use without the hulk.

It was maddening.

"You appear, doctor, to be struck with lethargy. I suppose your visit has been rather monotonous. Might I offer some entertainment?" Bruce glanced up, surprised. Loki simply watched him, lids half-lowered. He looked as if he wouldn't have cared if Bruce never responded. But that wasn't very likely.

"Sure," he replied amiably. "As long as it's not violent entertainment you're interested in."

"Perish the thought." He wound his way around the table, and sat in the chair opposite Bruce. "I seek only conversation. I realize I have been a less than gracious host, and would enjoy the opportunity to redeem myself in this particular area."

"What exactly do you want to talk about?" Bruce asked, wondering whether this were the meat of his abduction. Maybe Loki was finally going to squeeze him for information. Loki shrugged.

"You are a doctor, correct? A scientist? Let us speak of your studies."

"Physics?" Bruce questioned, raising a doubtful brow. Loki shifted a single shoulder.

"It seems most intriguing. I enjoy seeing how mortals view things that seem to me to be so far from their comprehension. However I have noticed on several occasions that Stark has some knowledge of rudimentary magic, but under the guise of science."

"Well, that's just Tony." Bruce said with a laugh. Loki arched a brow, obviously inviting elaboration. Deciding this was progress, Bruce felt inclined to indulge him. "He's a big name in machinery, but he dabbles in everything. When I told him what fields I really focus on, he researched them so that he could keep conversation with me. I'm pretty sure he got to my level in gamma radiation in a few months. It's actually incredible." There it was again: that smile. Loki erased it within seconds, but Bruce's curiosity was piqued.

"Odd that he is so focused on gaining knowledge. He does not seem the type. One would normally assume he drowns in vanities and vices."

"If you read gossip magazines, sure. But pick up a Popular Science or a Scientific American, and all you see is his IQ. I don't think anyone sees him as just a _playboy_. At least, not anymore. His whole image really changed with Iron Man." Bruce couldn't help but feel that the conversation (wasn't it meant to be about his studies?) was being led astray. He didn't bother mentioning the observation. Where the conversation led would say a lot more about Loki's intentions than any answer he would get from questioning it.

"He was seen as a 'playboy' before Iron Man? What is that, exactly?" Loki asked earnestly.

"Um..." Bruce tried to think of an accurate (and not uncomfortable) explanation. "I'm sure you have them on Asgard. They don't do much other than sleep around and party."

"Sleep around." Loki repeated, crinkling his brow. "I'm afraid I don't understand, doctor." Bruce suddenly felt grateful that Tony had beat out any remaining shame or bashfulness from him.

"Y'know. Sex."

"Ah." Loki exhaled, understanding seeming to light up his face. "He mated with many others, then?"

"Yes," Bruce answered, relieved. He didn't want to have the birds and the bees talk with an Asgardian God who happened to be his jailkeeper (he'd leave that to Thor, if it were necessary).

"And what became of his mates? Surely they did not wish to lose such a partner." Bruce chuckled a little, brushing a hand through his hair.

"I think those women knew what they were getting into. He was infamous for it."

"Ah," Loki said, and there was some slight triumph in his eyes. Bruce didn't really understand why. "But what of the men? They were ignorant of their fate?"

"Men." Bruce repeated. He supposed it was his turn to feel confused.

"That he slept with," Loki elaborated. "Were they unaware of his lack of interest?"

"I don't really think Tony has slept with men," Bruce replied, hoping he would live through this so that he could relate the conversation to Tony. It was ridiculous enough for a laugh.

"He has never had a relationship with a man?" Loki looked honestly surprised, and Bruce suddenly had the realization that Loki didn't show emotions. But he'd been perplexed, surprised, ignorant, understanding...throughout this whole conversation, he'd been easy to read.

Too easy?

Or was Bruce just being paranoid?

"No," he finally answered. "Not that I know of."

"Odd," Loki commented.

"Is it?" Bruce responded, one eyebrow raised.

"I have heard," Loki explained. "-that he is of looser morals than his fellow Midgardians. As you say, his reputation is well-known."

"So well-known _you_ know about it," Bruce noted, eyes frowning over the frames of his glasses. Loki smiled disarmingly, but there was something sharp in the gesture that eradicated any sense of its being harmless.

"I have always made a point to know my enemies."

"Tony doesn't talk to me much about the good old days," Bruce finally stated. "-but he's never mentioned any guys, even in the occasional glory stories. To be honest-" He cut himself off, and Loki leaned forward, eyes gleaming.

"Do go on." Bruce could feel that he was treading on dangerous territory. But he wasn't sure how Tony's sexuality mattered (at all) towards Avengers business. He supposed Loki was a manipulator, but it wasn't as though he were delivering any shocking news.

"Tony may have 'looser morals', but he was raised in a pretty conservative area. What I'm interested in is why you care." Loki's face was drawn in speculatively, and his eyes were glazed over. He seemed to have forgotten Bruce was even in the room.

"Ah." It was all he said. Almost instantly, he seemed to forget the topic, and delved into physics with a fervor that almost convinced Bruce that it had (all along) been his interest.

Almost.

* * *

"What do you eat at your home?" Loki questioned, flipping idly through some large book. Bruce glanced up, half of him still lost in thought. His boredom had dissipated with the advent of this new development. What was Loki after? It took him a moment to understand the question, and then another to answer.

"We don't eat much. Tony and I tend to get distracted." Loki raised an eyebrow, and Bruce shrugged. "He's got a pretty great lab." He paused. "Had. He _had_ a pretty great lab. Why, exactly, did you take everything again? You know he'll rebuild." Loki shrugged carelessly.

"I enjoy crippling enemies for the mere sight of their scrambling. You ignored eating in favor of working?"

"Tony brings out the workaholic in me," Bruce admitted with a smile. "We order the occasional pizza, but it's usually Steve that gets us to fresh air when it's absolutely required."

"You both like pizza?" Loki asked, gesturing to the oven as if offering to cook whatever Bruce asked for. Bruce smiled.

"Tony maintains it's a staple of New York, but the truth is that he just likes anything with grease. He has a standby for Jarvis, so he doesn't really have to think when he's hungry. He just asks Jarvis to order the usual."

"Which is...?" Loki drawled.

"Anchovies and Gorgonzola. It's a little bit disgusting, but it's his favorite. Since I moved in, he tends to order spinach for me. It was a joke at first, but I really do like spinach." Loki obligingly waved at the counter, and a pizza appeared. Freshly cooked and covered in spinach. Bruce swallowed down the questions of how that was possible- he was too hungry for that.

* * *

"He is almost gone." Bruce blinked, glancing up from the text he'd been half-heartedly skimming.

"Excuse me?"

"The creature," Loki elaborated, and there was a triumphant grin that seemed to sharpen his features. It was actually a little unnerving- more a show of teeth than anything else. The expression alone chipped away any Stockholm Syndrome tendencies that Bruce might have inadvertently allocated.

"That easily?"

"I assure you," Loki drawled. "-it was not _overly_ simple." Bruce resisted rolling his eyes. So he'd accidentally bumped into the man's ego. Was he supposed to apologize? Hulk or not, he'd be taking his chances without coddling.

"Figured," he said instead. "Or else you wouldn't exactly wait until this late in the game to do it." Loki cocked his head back and laughed. There it was, Bruce noted as his blood turned to ice. _That_ was a Loki laugh.

"Oh, my dear Dr. Banner," he gleefully murmured. "The game has yet to even begin."

* * *

"We're here."

"And?" Tony demanded, squinting to try and peer through the static-y images that the camera was feeding him.

"It's a mountain range." Steve responded doubtfully.

"And?" He repeated, frustrated. "Are they there?"

"It's a mountain," Clint stressed, but sympathy lurked beneath the annoyance. "We can't look inside a mountain." Tony rolled his eyes. They couldn't check for caves? No wonder he'd had to orchestrate his own escape. As if anticipating his argument, Natasha cut in.

"There are no caves, Stark. Nothing that even indicates it's hollow inside. According to our scans, it's just a normal structure."

"Well, according to _my_ scans, that's where Loki's energy signature is. See, if I were there-"

"This isn't an argument I'm willing to hear." Steve interrupted, and Tony could practically hear him sweating. "I know that we're all stressed, but we need to focus on Bruce, not arguing in circles. Can you scan for his location again? Remotely? Maybe they moved."

"Or maybe they're _there_, and Loki is _magic_." Tony retorted, because scanning would take hours- time they didn't have. "Just look around more."

"Fuck _that_-" Clint began, but Natasha's voice silenced him.

"We'll do another sweep of the area. Avengers out." The com. link was cut abruptly, and Tony frowned as the screen remained a sandy reminder of how he wasn't out there being useful. He scowled into an empty mug, and decided unhappily that Rogers was right. Even if they combed the area again, a secondary scan would only be helpful. Swallowing down his frustration, he began to reset the program.

Which is when the air began shimmering a light blue and then- quite suddenly- Bruce Banner was stumbling into the room, hair ruffled and skin pale.

"Bruce?" The other man's eyes flickered to him, dazed and unfocused, taking a few seconds before they seemed to clear.

"Hi, Tony." He smiled thinly, brushing a hand over his head. "I'm back."

"I noticed." Tony rushed towards the scientist, absentmindedly wondering whether he'd fallen asleep. "How'd you get here?"

"Long story," Bruce answered tightly. "Can I sit? Teleportation kinda wears you out."

"Jesus Christ, teleportation? Tell me Scotty beamed you here." Tony groaned as he pulled a chair over. Bruce collapsed into it immediately, as if the thin sheen of sweat on his brow were not a good enough indicator of how worn he was. Noting this, Tony made a beeline for the telephone.

"I wish. Do we- I mean, do we have to call in Fury now?" Bruce asked, as he noticed his movements. Tony obligingly placed the receiver back in its cradle.

"Hell no. We can just never tell him, if you want. Run away together. I'm still not totally positive this is real, anyway, and it'd be irresponsible to call him in because of a hallucination."

"Absolutely," Bruce agreed as he leaned back, looking exhausted but relieved. "But this is real."

"Figured as much. If it were a dream, you'd be buxom and in the buff. Are you okay?"

"In a manner of speaking, sure. What about you? Is everyone alright?"

"Fuck the sympathetic bullshit. We're fine. Where were you?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Somewhere that Heimdell was blind to."

"Um, spare me a footnote?"

"The all-seeing Asgardian gatekeeper," Bruce elaborated. "Loki seemed positive he couldn't see his hide-out."

"And could he?" Bruce shrugged.

"Guess not." Tony made a gesture for him to go on, so he did. "He kept me there for the past few days, and sent me back, well, a second ago."

"How come you couldn't bust out? Were you in another universe?" Bruce snorted, as if amused that that was Tony's immediate assumption. What could he say? Avengers life made certain assumptions (like random alternate universes) completely plausible.

"He mentioned we were still on Earth. Somewhere in a mountain range, I think." _Called it._

"Ah." Tony furrowed his brow. "Were you in a magic cell?"

"No." Bruce frowned. "To be honest, I'm trying to figure out how to word this. I didn't anticipate seeing you so soon."

"I would've cleaned up if I'd expected you," Tony promised, glancing at the mess his lab had become. His interest in appearances had dimmed considerably since Bruce's abduction, and, considering that he had never been very organized in the first place, the result was downright shameful. "You should've called ahead. Why'd he let you go? Wait. What are you trying to word?"

"How long has it been since you slept?" Bruce asked, amused.

"Almost as long as you've been stalling. It's not my fault you decided to stay out late and I've had to wait up. Go ahead, Banner; I can take it." Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a weary harrumph of a sigh.

"I think something bad is going to happen."

"'Something bad'? Was the hulknapping not the bad thing?" Bruce smiled thinly.

"Depending on one's outlook on life, the 'hulknapping' wasn't all bad. But its occurrence suggests something big is going to go down. Soon." Tony, who had been pacing all along, sped his gait.

"Bruce, you're killing me. Out with it. What happened?" Bruce frowned.

"You know how you've been distracting me the past few months? Trying to get me to ignore certain experiments in my lab?"

"That sounds exceedingly unprofessional and unlike me."

"Well, that certain solution won't be required anymore." Tony stopped, glancing over his shoulder incredulously.

"Tell me you're joking." Bruce shifted uneasily.

"As far as I know, it's for real. Before you ask, I don't know how. Something magic-y."

"I hate magic." Tony groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He continued pacing, and Bruce rolled his eyes.

"You're gonna tire _me_ out, Tony. Sit down.'

"This is bad," he said unnecessarily, ignoring the advice. "That is some definite ominous foreshadowing, right?"

"Definitely." Bruce agreed.

"But." Tony stopped again. "You're okay."

"I am."

"No more temper tantrums."

"When I have them, the collateral damage will be less costly." Tony turned and, in a tone bordering on accusatory, stated,

"You're glad." Bruce shifted one shoulder, eyes falling to the ground and staying there.

"I know that it means something bad, Tony, and I'm aware that the Hulk's presence was important when it came to fighting Loki. But for the first time in a long time, I can think. I don't have to monitor my thoughts or emotions. I could get angry at you, or Fury, or _anyone_, and I wouldn't have to worry about murdering the people I care about, or destroying their homes, or waking up _naked_ surrounded by rubble without a single memory as to why, or what I did when I wasn't in control. He was always there before, always just hovering like a ticking timebomb, and now...it's..." He swallowed heavily, then finally dared to meet Tony's eyes. "I'm not an Avenger anymore, sure, but I'm Bruce Banner again for the first time in a decade." Tony's lips thinned.

"Oh, Dr. Banner. You're such a fucking _idiot_. You really think that you get out of being an Avenger? Gumby was never my lab partner." He lifted a finger. "Fine print, buddy. Hulk or no Hulk, you're one of us. The only difference is now you don't get to use him as an excuse to get out of arguments." Bruce cracked a smile, relief radiating off of him in waves. It was noticeable, Tony immediately thought. The lack of the Hulk. His shoulders relaxed, and his smile was more open, and he just seemed _happier_. "Besides," he added. "You're the only one around here that's even half-decent at chess. You know I can't play with _Barton_."

"Actually," Bruce said with a breathy laugh. "-I'm taking a sabbatical from chess for a while."

* * *

I had the majority of this chapter done for a month; it was just the middle section that gave me trouble. I re-wrote it several times- in one iteration, the council was trying to assassinate Tony. I don't even know. I'm excited to finally have this part behind me. Honestly, this chapter almost killed the fic.

And I promise more Loki/Tony interaction soon, because that's the most fun to write, and Loki has some serious 'splainin to do anyway.

Quick! Father's Day gifts! Better the answers, the faster the next chapter will get here.


End file.
